The Trouble With Trolls
by jinjyaa
Summary: Human rights have improved, but what about the other nondemons? Crisis with the trolls leads to the Dragon Insurrection. And Wolfram's own nondemon ancestry may allow him to give Yuuri children, or ... sprouts?
1. A Small Family Affair

Kyou Kara Maou : The Trouble With Trolls

Summary: Wolfram's attempt to bypass Maou Wedding Curse with a small family ceremony, backfires when an uninvited relative arrives - the Troll Mother.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Comments: There's a lot of backup material for this story on my homepage link on my author's profile, including a full summary, illustrations, map, and geneology.

My KKM stories so far form one big story arc. If you're jumping in here in the middle … Wolfram's father Manfred has lately married his mother. Jointly with Manfred and Adelbert von Gratz, Yuuri and Wolfram are raising four children now. Weddings tend to bring one's embarrassing relatives out of the woodwork…

_Please review._

Chapter 1 : A Small Family Affair

"You didn't invite _Aldrich!?!_ Shinou's sake, Wolfram, he's your liege lord! _And _one of your closest relatives." Manfred von Bielenfeld, the spitting image of Wolfram, right down to his demonic green glare, faced off against his eldest son across the dining table. The subject of conversation, Lord Aldrich von Bielenfeld, current ruler of Bielenfeld, was Wolfram's second cousin, third cousin, _and_ great-great-uncle, via Manfred, Cecilie, and Manfred again, respectively. "Invite him to the wedding_ immediately_."

Wolfram matched Manfred glare for glare. "Chichiue, we're inviting only the _immediate_ family. Our parents and brothers, the children, and Adelbert and Günter. And Gisela and Murata Ken. And Annissina and Grendel." His voice lost some authority as the guest list wandered further from _'immediate family'_, though his brother Gwendal could hardly attend without his wife and newborn son. Annissina wouldn't let him.

Twenty-one-year-old Yuuri snorted at Wolfram's use of the imperial '_we_', but otherwise stuck to assisting their adopted baby Bertram as he smeared pureed supper all over himself. Wolfram hadn't consulted Yuuri at all. In fact, his plan didn't call for '_inviting_' Yuuri's family. Yuuri was simply to go fetch them on March 31rst, giving them no time to pack – or_ shop_ – and have them back on hand for the April 1st wedding, one week away. Yuuri had been notified just moments before Manfred and the others at supper.

This was unfortunate. Two of the short list of guests, Murata Ken and Shibuya Shouri, had for some time been developing a theory regarding Maou Wedding Calamity syndrome. Wolfram had done a few of the right things – kept it small, planned to wear their normal _male_ state function attire. But they could have warned him already that bringing anyone long distance, like from Earth, or scheduling anywhere near April Fool's Day, was asking for disaster. And although Murata wouldn't dare say it out loud, he suspected the greatest danger of all was sweet baby Bertram, presently sporting an all-over smooshed pumpkin glow.

Alas, Murata and Shouri were both on Earth, scheduled to get less than a day's warning of Wolfram's latest wedding plan.

"It'll be nice to see Uncle Shouri and Grandma Miko and Grandpa Shouma again, won't it, Bertram?" Yuuri crooned to his beautiful small son. "Who would you like to carry you at the wedding ceremony, sweetie?"

Bertram looked thoughtful, then squirted his little fists' load of pumpkin into Yuuri's face. "_Chuu-wy!_" he replied, emphatically, that being his current rendition of '_Chichiue_' for Wolfram.

"Ah-ha-ha," replied Yuuri, wiping pumpkin off his face. "No, sweetie, Chichiue and Wimpue can't carry you during our wedding ceremony." Yuuri had long since given in to his husband and children calling him '_Wimpue_'. "How about Greta? Or Adelbert could carry both you and Frieda? Yes, Papa Adelbert is very big, you'll have a good view."

Bertram blew bubbles of pumpkin on his lips. His glare gradually turned into an evil demon smile, surprisingly well developed for an infant. One could almost think the helpless innocent was up to something. Yuuri uneasily dismissed this thought, in ardent loyalty to his adored baby boy.

"_I_ will carry Bertram," growled Manfred. Bertram was his biological son, given to Wolfram and Yuuri to adopt. "Or _Aldrich _will," he added, glaring again at Wolfram. Wolfram glanced uneasily at his mother. Cecilie glared at Manfred, neatly closing the circle.

A green-liveried guard rushed in and gave a note to Gwendal, mercifully distracting them all. Gwendal read it quickly and passed it to Günter.

"Manfred, I think you'll get your wish, after all," said Gwendal.

"Yes, indeed," said Günter, as he finished reading the note. He handed it back to the guard, and said, "Please dispatch this with a courier immediately, to summon Lord Bielenfeld to Blood Pledge Castle." As the guard rushed off, he explained to Wolfram, "It seems the Troll Mother is coming to visit the day after tomorrow."

At this announcement, the table erupted in such a babble that it took Yuuri several tries to get a word in edgewise. Finally he plucked up Bertram, dripping pumpkin and spinach and all, and stood and banged on the table.

"_HELLO?!?_ Could someone please tell me what's going on?" Yuuri demanded.

The children giggled. Günter glared at Cecilie. Wolfram crossed his arms, furious that his just-announced wedding plans were in jeopardy. The others looked thoughtful.

Professor Manfred sighed and answered, since apparently no one else was going to. "Yuuri, you do know about trolls. Don't you?" He glanced a question at Günter, the Maou's tutor.

"They're huge." Yuuri had learned that much on Earth. "They're a highly intelligent earth Mazoku beast." That much, he'd learned here.

Günter replied defensively to Manfred's unspoken question. "I was ordered not to teach my students about _trolls _by… a previous Maou. She seemed to think the von Krist have an _issue _with _trolls_. Aside from the obvious, that they are the most evil, diabolical, despiccable –"

"- The von Krist _do_ have an issue with trolls," Cheri cut him off. "I didn't choose for my children to hear such '_teaching_'."

"All Krist have an issue with trolls. Krist borders Trondheim, after all," offered Efram, Manfred's second son. Both his and Bertram's mothers were from Krist. He didn't appear to share the Krist troll phobia. He was too busy eating. Yuuri had been surprised to find that Mazoku children had growth spurts just like human children, just spaced farther apart. Adolescent Efram was suddenly only a few inches shorter than his father and Wolfram, and clearly destined to be taller than them.

Twitching, Yuuri said, "This really isn't clarifying anything. Although," he laughed shortly, "I must say I thought of trolls when I first met Teodor von Trondheim." Ted was huge, six and a half feet tall, two hundred fifty pounds or so, all muscle. Yuuri had meant this quip as a joke, but everyone frowned at him.

"Yes, of course Ted's part troll," said Manfred. "All the von Trondheims are. Likewise the von Gratz. And Aldrich."

"Ah – what?" said Yuuri. "Trolls can actually … breed … with Mazoku? I thought… Bielenfeld and Gratz were pure Mazoku," he finished lamely, noticing his toddler foster-daughter Frieda von Gratz look up from her supper at hearing her surname. _Lovely little Frieda? Part troll?_

Manfred gazed at him in wonder, as he often did, beholding the breathtaking breadth of Yuuri's ignorance. "We _are_ pure Mazoku, Yuuri. Mazoku demons and the other Mazoku races are all _Mazoku_. Granted, not all Mazoku races can breed with demons. The egg-laying kinds aren't compatible…" Manfred's gaze drifted to Günter again, but Günter had hunkered down into a sulk.

Gwendal sighed. "Yuuri, we've invited Aldrich to come as translator and cultural liaison. It's what he was, um, born for. At the end of the Great Troll and Goblin War, Aldrich's father agreed to take a von Trondheim wife as part of the war settlement, and raise a son to act as a bridge to the rest of Shin Makoku society."

"But… Ted's already here," replied Yuuri, grasping one thread of this. Ted von Trondheim was garrison commander at Blood Pledge Castle – Gwendal's military right hand man. "Usually Adelbert is, too. I mean, I like Aldrich, but…" _But I don't understand any of this._

The table seemed to enjoy a general sigh of having no idea where to start. Still distracted by _yet another wedding_ getting upstaged, Wolfram said, "Yuuri, you can't trust the von Trondheim about trolls. They're on the trolls' side. And the von Gratz… If Adelbert could, he'd happily murder the Troll Mother."

Yuuri frowned, glad Adelbert wasn't home, in that case. "Well. What is the Troll Mother coming to talk about?"

Günter snorted rudely. "She didn't say."

"Well… who is she?"

Gwendal looked at him thoughtfully. "Now _that_ is a very good question." He didn't supply an answer. "Ah – in the meantime, please don't discuss this with Ted von Trondheim."

In the end, Yuuri didn't discuss it much more with anyone. Somehow whatever people said, seemed to turn one question into two, four, eight, questions multiplying like rabbits instead of getting answered. He didn't recognize this was a symptom of people speaking from incompatible base assumptions.

He did try looking up '_Troll_' in the Mazoku bestiary in the library. What it said amounted to '_large, highly intelligent earth Mazoku beast._' As with every entry, there was an involved majutsu technical cross-reference table, which Yuuri couldn't make heads or tails of, not having studied majutsu theory. The text neglected to mention that trolls could breed with people Mazoku. Leafing through the book, Yuuri noticed there were other people-shaped '_Mazoku beasts_'. The book didn't say whether they could breed with people, either. He got totally distracted by this issue. The people he lived and worked with and loved – how many of them, like Frieda, were part… magical beast? Could Wolfram possibly be… part… what?

It's a pity Yuuri didn't think to look up the Great Troll and Goblin War, instead.

oOo

_Please review? _


	2. Little Rickie

you Kara Maou : The Trouble With Trolls

Summary: Wolfram's attempt to bypass Maou Wedding Curse with a small family ceremony, backfires when an uninvited relative arrives - the Troll Mother.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

_Please review._

Chapter 2 : Little Rickie

"'_Bestiary'_?" inquired Aldrich sweetly. He'd arrived around 9 pm the next day, a bit peckish. Sanguria in the kitchens promptly provided a heaping bowl of his favorite Tarkenburg purple new potatoes in the dining room, dripping in butter, which Aldrich was devouring with childlike glee. Aldrich's beautiful green eyes and face were pure von Bielenfeld, his blond hair underlain with a light shade of von Trondheim blue, his frame a slightly scaled down and much less muscle-bound version of his cousin Adelbert's, and his personality uniquely his own.

Efram's face screwed up into a pixie smile. "I think Yuuri's referring to Igor's book, cousin Aldrich. Good pictures."

"Hm? Oh, yes! Igor was rather a good artist, wasn't he? Though Troll Mother didn't care for that portrait." Aldrich turned back to Yuuri, explaining kindly, "The title is actually '_Besting Beasts_', by Igor von Krist, if I'm thinking of the right book." Efram nodded. "It's a rather archaic form of literary pun, already fallen out of use several thousand years by the time Igor was writing. I don't blame you for misreading it. That's an… _interesting_… choice of book, Yuuri?"

"Good pictures," reiterated Efram, amused. "I believe Yuuri uses it as a picture dictionary." Aldrich looked enlightened and re-applied himself to his potatoes.

"Ah, Lord Bielenfeld," Günter asked self-effacingly, though one could see it pained him, "I fear I was the one who misled Yuuri heika. How was I misreading…?"

"Oh, the double diacritical mark and the curlicue," explained Aldrich. "Igor did love to hide things in plain sight – the entire book is in code. I just read it with my son Dietrich a few years back for practice deciphering those archaic forms. Though one has to wonder from whom Igor thought he was hiding things."

_Not from the von Bielenfelds or von Wincotts, apparently, _Yuuri thought. Both of those towering intellectual dynasties predated the founding of Shin Makoku by thousands of years. He could imagine both families snickering at the earnest academic efforts of upstart Igor von Krist, proud founder of the Krist domain '_only_' three thousand years ago. Judging by Günter's expression, he had no trouble imagining it either, continuing into the present day, with darling little Dietrich von Bielenfeld, his mother a von Wincott, who was older than Yuuri, but looked about seven by human standards. Who could read Günter's illustrious ancestor's book more easily than Günter could.

"The symbols in the majutsu offensive defensive effectiveness tables, are they not used in the standard manner?" Günter pressed on, self-effacing but dogged.

"Well, half of them, perhaps. You have to rotate all the inherents one position about the element wheel, and the over-defense once the other way. Efram could show you." Efram nodded, accepting this charge from his liege lord. "But that's a simple symbol substitution, with the code key on the first page," Aldrich continued, dismissing Igor's scrambled symbol tables with a wave of his spork. "I was really more referring to the text." For that, Aldrich offered neither explanation nor his young vassal Efram, apparently suggesting Günter figure it out for himself.

"You're quite an expert on theoretical majutsu, then, Lord Aldrich?" Yuuri asked in polite appreciation.

"Oh, not at all. Efram's the theoreticist in the family," answered Aldrich, with a smile at Efram, completing Günter's mortified fall into academic dejection. "I'm more into politics and agriculture myself. And a distant third place at practical fire healing, of course," he added with a nod at Manfred, who held second place.

"More potatoes, M'Lord Bielenfeld?" Sanguria was at his elbow to ask, the very moment Aldrich finished swallowing the last of his first helping. Due to a paperwork mishap following her Bielenfeld trooper fiancé's death, it was several years before Aldrich realized no one had paid her widow's bonus. He'd apologized in person, paid in cash, and added 50 percent from his own pocket. Sanguria hadn't known the von Bielenfelds owed her a slice of bread. She split the bonus 50 percent with the other kitchen girls and Dorcas, kept the substantial principal for herself, and Yuuri's staff was entirely at Aldrich's beck and call forevermore.

"Mm, yes please, Sanguria! I love what you did with the herbed butter," said Aldrich with a warm personal smile.

"And, ah, my coffee, Sanguria?" Yuuri reminded her for the third time.

Sanguria curtsied fully to Aldrich, nodded at Yuuri, and scurried away.

"Efram, could I trouble you to go make sure '_Besting Beasts_' is put away?" requested Aldrich. "Troll Mother would likely assume it was out for someone who couldread it," he said. Efram smiled, then abruptly unsmiled, indeed looked rather white, when Aldrich added, "It might hurt her feelings. Günter, perhaps you'd like to go along. Efram could show you the trick of those tables."

The room remained palpably tense as Günter and Efram departed. Yuuri tentatively asked, "Um, why would that hurt Troll Mother's feelings?"

"'_Besting Beasts_' is an arcane text on how to fight other Mazoku races, Sire," replied Aldrich. "And maybe hope to survive it. Now that our resident Krists are out on a quest, might I suggest a longer quest? Krist racism won't help matters here."

"Efram's _your _man, Aldrich," said Manfred softly. He'd been silently watching Aldrich ever since Aldrich arrived, with such intensity that a jealous Cecilie had stormed off to bed, Wolfram in her wake trying to calm her down. "You can trust him."

Wolfram chose that moment to return. As he sat down, he asked Yuuri, "Where are Günter and Efram off to?"

"Ah, Wolfram, glad you're back," said Aldrich. "I was just suggesting a little quest to keep our Krists busy. Let's say, oh… I'm concerned about leaving Dietrich alone in Bielenfeld. So I ask you and Efram to go check up on him. And bring Frieda and Grendel and Bertram as well, and Günter to help. And then, just for a treat, you take Dietrich and the others up to visit Brendan. Won't that be fun?"

The look Wolfram threw at his liege lord suggested that would _not_ be fun, thank you very much. Yuuri was surprised nothing caught fire. But Gwendal beat him to responding. "_Grendel?_ Aldrich, why are you concerned about _my_ son's safety?"

"Oh, I'm not. It's just a plausible side quest to keep Günter and Efram out of our hair." As Manfred opened his mouth to deny that _either_ of his sons would be a problem, Aldrich waived him to wait. "If you insist, Efram could come back after he's seen them to Castle Bielenfeld. And Chichi _Aldrich's referring to his father Friedrich_ could go with Wolfram to Gratzberg, instead. Though it's been a few years since Efram or Wolfram visited Brendan."

Manfred held his peace at that. Gwendal and Wolfram weren't so well pleased. Gwendal said, "So it would be fine for me to keep my son _here_."

"Entirely up to you, of course. I'm not concerned about Grendel's _safety_ here at Blood Pledge Castle. Trolls are the nicest people. And the von Walde and the von Khrennikov have a long and warm personal history with the trolls' closest allies."

Yuuri noted that these words seemed to have the exact opposite effect one might have expected on Gwendal. He turned kind of white and pinched looking, and said, "Fine. Wolfram will have to bring Annissina along, too. She's," Gwendal dropped his voice to an almost inaudible grumble through clenched teeth, "_breast-feeding_."

"We wouldn't want to disrupt that," agreed Aldrich. "Although, before she goes, I couldn't help wondering… Where is Troll Mother supposed to sit?" Gwendal blinked at him blankly. "It's only, if you don't have a good chair for, say, 1000 pounds without creaking, about yay wide, maybe five times the padding you'd use for a big man… perhaps Annissina and Dorcas could whip something up this evening before bed? Yuuri, I'm not sure your protocol officer is quite the man for this visit." Günter being said protocol officer, and nearly rabid on the topic of trolls.

Gwendal winced. "I'll go see to that now," he said, on his way out.

Wolfram, arms crossed in fury, said, "_I_ haven't agreed to this, Aldrich. I'm not budging until you tell me why you need _my_ children in Gratzberg. Besides, I'm getting married in a week." He winced, as he realized just a moment too late.

"Really? Congratulations, young cousin and Yuuri your majesty! Was my invitation… lost in the mail?"

Yuuri wasn't surprised when Wolfram instantly caved and agreed to depart with all the babies and Krists and von Khrennikov first thing in the morning. Failure to invite your thrice-related liege lord to your wedding whilst he's in your dining room, having dropped everything and arrived on urgent notice to do your fiancé a favor: minus 1000 aristocratic brownie points.

Wolfram slunk out of the room to go pack.

Wild horses couldn't have dragged Yuuri out of that room. He'd been king long enough to appreciate a people master. Whatever Aldrich was up to, he intended to watch every minute of it, and learn.

"How long has it been since you've seen Troll Mother, Aldrich?" Manfred asked quietly.

Gwendal and Conrad returned and sat while Aldrich was answering. Conrad had been stage-managing a bedroom and privy for Troll Mother in the ballroom, and a very large pavilion outside in case she brought anyone she didn't want in her bedroom.

"Oh, too long! I'm so looking forward to seeing her again!" Aldrich looked gleeful. "She came to my century party in Trondheim. She went to sleep not long after that. She promised to have someone wake her before my second century party. Oops, I wasn't supposed to repeat that. Oh, well, it doesn't matter anymore – she should have been woken up thirty-five years ago for _that_. I imagine Franklin got an earful for not having her woken up in time." Franklin, ruling Lord Trondheim, was Aldrich's best friend since childhood.

"Conrad! Good to see you!" Aldrich pressed on. "Say, I was wondering, is there any chance Adelbert will come back this week?"

"Good to see you, too, Aldrich. I expect Adelbert by tomorrow evening."

"Ah, that won't do. Could you possibly re-route him to Gratzberg? I'm afraid Adelbert may still have a _thing_ about the trolls eating his father. And Wolfram's bringing Frieda to Gratzberg – it would be so nice for Adelbert to introduce his daughter to her grandmother, don't you think?"

Conrad nodded, giving Aldrich a searching glance. "Certainly, I'll send a rider."

And off went yet another of Yuuri's minions to do Aldrich's bidding. _Damn, he's good,_ thought Yuuri.

"Wait – _what?_" said Yuuri. "Trolls_ ate_ Adelbert's father?"

"It's just their way, Yuuri. Adeldan knew it was coming. It's Adelbert and Brendan who had a problem with it." Aldrich dismissed this as narrow-mindedness.

While Yuuri's mouth was still gaping, Manfred asked quietly, "Adeldan was a quarter troll, wasn't he, Aldrich? And you are… also a quarter?"

Aldrich frowned. "One eighth, of course. As are Adelbert and Brendan, though they're not old enough yet, in any case."

_Old enough for _what_? Being _eaten Yuuri's head yammered. But something about Manfred and Gwendal's intent stillness made him hold his tongue.

"You're sure?" Manfred pressed him.

"Of course I'm sure. Troll Mother said," said Aldrich, as though that settled everything.

"One eighth," said Manfred. "So, one of your grandmothers was Troll Mother's daughter by a fullblood demon? Did you ever actually meet this half-troll grandmother?"

"Yes, of course. Well, I mean, I went to her death feast when I was around Dietrich's age. Chichiue brought me to Trondheim specially." That _was_ special –Aldrich's mother had left the day Aldrich was born, and never set foot in Bielenfeld again. Ordinarily, the von Trondheims ferried young Aldrich back and forth for visits. "But Chichiue met her before he agreed to marry my mother."

"Did he confirm _all_ of your other grandparents were demon purebloods, though? I imagine that would be rather hard to do, in Trondheim."

"She was the only living grandparent left. _Anyway_," Aldrich was clearly tired of the fun with fractions game, "Yuuri, everything's going to be really simple for Troll Mother's visit. Trolls are very sweet people – all you have to do is be nice. She'll love you, we'll all chat. You'll see. I'm sure you'll like her." This last was delivered with the bland disingenousness of a five-year-old.

"Do you have any idea what she _wants_, Aldrich?" asked Gwendal, clearly pained.

"Nope. But I'm sure she'll tell us. Don't worry. Well, I'm off to bed. Though it'll be hard to sleep for the excitement. I just can't wait to see her!"

"I'll be along in a minute, Aldrich," said Manfred.

Once Aldrich left, Gwendal murmured, "What do you think, Manfred?"

Manfred sighed and shook his head. "He's being… very trollish. But Aldrich always is. I guess we'll find out soon enough."

"Find out what?" said Yuuri.

"The goal," answered Gwendal, "was to breed a part-troll who could be fully accepted by troll society, yet be trusted as part of the Shin Makoku aristocracy by the non-trolls. The question is whether we succeeded, or added Bielenfeld to the roster of troll domains. And incidentally, whether Gratz is still under troll control or not. Although it may be a while yet before we can answer that part."

"Gwendal…" Yuuri said in frustration. "Aldrich and Brendan are Aldrich and Brendan. Whether they're full troll or part fish, they're what, 230 and 120 years old? Surely whether they're trustworthy or not is a question of their track record, not their ancestry. You say Adeldan von Gratz was a quarter troll. Well, fine. Weird, but fine. Was he a good domain lord?"

"Yeah," allowed Manfred slowly. His uncle Adeldan had been more a father to him than his own father Wolfred, who died before Manfred turned 30. "Adeldan was a good man. Until he was about 210. Then he left his family and domain and went to the trolls. Adelbert tried to get him back, but…"

"What happened?" asked Yuuri.

"We don't know," answered Gwendal. "Adelbert insists he was eaten. Lord Franklin's father insisted he was not, but refused further comment, and died soon after. Or so his sons say. Aldrich says he was probably eaten, but if so, it was by his own choice. A number of domain lords – myself included – felt Aldrich's attitude called into question whether he's any more reliable than any other part-troll. Friedrich insisted that Aldrich had been open and above-board, and was simply confirming that after age 200, a quarter-troll '_goes to the trolls'_, and there's nothing anyone can do about it."

"The real goal, Yuuri," added Manfred sadly, "is to prevent a repeat of the Great Troll and Goblin War. We have no idea whether we've succeeded. Or whether now that Troll Mother is awake again, if Aldrich is going to '_go to the trolls_' as well. But in case he _does_, I'm going to spend one last night with him. Good night, gentlemen."

oOo

In the library, Efram did exactly as his liege lord Aldrich had bid him. That is to say, he showed Günter the two symbol swaps in Igor's book that Aldrich had specified, one correct and one not. The correct symbol transformation was the key to all the majutsu defense spells – without that key, Günter's defense against other Mazoku races would operate at a quarter power, at best. The incorrect symbol transformation would make his offensive spells no _less_ effective than they would be from reading the tables literally, as Günter had been. But nor would they be improved. There were two other, less common but far more potent, symbol transformations needed to wholly master those tables. Aldrich hadn't mentioned them, so neither did Efram.

To ease his conscience and refresh his memory, Efram drilled his incorrect teaching with Günter, using the troll entry, wood nymphs, mermaids, and goblins, and carefully re-read the text of each entry as well, saying nothing about the keys to understanding _that_.

Günter narrowed his eyes at Efram's choosing to review the lesson four times over, but stayed silent and studied all the harder. Günter had a photographic memory. He intended to pour over those images in his mind until they gave up their secrets.

Before they left, Efram insisted on properly shelving every book from the reading tables. Günter's hands itched to leave out a book on the Great Troll and Goblin War. But he had to concede, that would be an insult to their guest. While Günter was in another aisle, Efram pulled out '_Besting Beasts_' again and quickly refreshed his memory on two other entries. Though Günter saw him at it, he couldn't tell which entries, though he thought they might be in the fire section.

Efram _whooshed_ out the lights as they left, still deeply unsure what Aldrich was up to. Wolfram had dropped by and told them they were headed for Bielenfeld in the morning. Efram couldn't figure out whether that meant Aldrich mistrusted him as a Krist and thus wanted him gone, or was entrusting his son to Efram and Günter's protection, and ensured they were both freshly armed. _Could it be both? But… why?_

oOo

"I _will_ be back in time for our wedding in six days," hissed Wolfram, back in their bedroom. Yuuri had just put his pajamas on. Wolfram, already in his most comforting pink nightgown, was just tying up his pack, having already packed for all three babies he had to bring to Bielenfeld, since Annissina was busy building a troll chair. Under the circumstances, Yuuri thought his fiancé's mood was remarkably upbeat. Wolfram hadn't singed Yuuri's hair yet, for instance.

"Mm, all packed?" answered Yuuri, pointedly changing the subject. His interest and belief level in this wedding had never gotten much above twenty percent, and was now holding steady at zero. "Oh, decisions, decisions. Do I want my political advisor's wise counsel on how to handle his liege lord and Big Mama Troll? Or do I want to make love to my absolutely gorgeous fiancé before he goes away for a few days…" He snaked his hands around Wolfram's waist from behind to suggest he wasn't really all that torn on the issue.

Wolfram chuckled softly. "You think you can distract me this easily from being furious at Aldrich? Wimp."

Yuuri silently conceded he had a point, and tried a little harder, moving around to face Wolfram's side a bit, one hand still tracing on his far hip and the firmly curvaceous cheek below, the other tracing a finger up his abdomen, across a nipple, tracking a collarbone, the long muscle of his neck, his ear lobe, and there turning Wolfram's face to his for a kiss. "So tell me about," _kiss_, "being furious," _kiss_. "Mm, maybe after you get back from Gratz?" Yuuri pulled him into a full-body hug at that and kissed him deeply.

"Mm, alright, wimp, your plan might have its merits," Wolfram began, arms around Yuuri's neck, as they broke off the kiss. "_EEEEEEEK!_"

Yuuri whirled to see what Wolfram was suddenly pointing at behind him. The top half of a face was peering at them through their balcony railing. The face was over two feet wide. The eyes, around ten by six inches apiece, blinked, bright purple irises on a light scarlet background, with bright scarlet slit pupils. Her hair was thick and wavy and swept straight back from a high forehead, hairline curving lower in the middle, weirdly reminiscent of those cute little potbellied plastic toy trolls. Or, Yuuri realized with a start, the hairlines on the von Gratz brothers and Teodor von Trondheim. Though not Aldrich – Aldrich sported the unruly von Bielenfeld cowlicks and bangs on his forehead.

"Oh, my! I'm so sorry I startled you," the face said. "I saw your light on and was hoping you could help me." Yuuri's parents could have identified the round-lipped twangy way of pronouncing things, as an accent not unlike a neighbor from Minnesota who used to babysit while they lived in New York. Yuuri simply recognized it as oddly maternal and familiar, yet not from Japan or Shin Makoku – his family returned to Japan before he started gradeschool. The face was trying to whisper so as not to disturb anyone. However, the floor vibrated as it spoke.

"Ah, hello. Yes?" said Yuuri stupidly.

"Mind if I come in?" asked Aldrich, already in and quickly striding across the bedroom floor, in a simple cambric blue nightgown. Manfred trailed behind, in a matching nightgown clearly borrowed from Aldrich. "Troll Mother!" cried Aldrich in delight. "It's so good to see you!"

"Oh? Oh, yes? Who's this, now?" she replied, peering around the balcony bars.

"Aldrich von Bielenfeld, Troll Mother. Oh, please tell me you remember me!"

"All-da-riccck… Oh! Oh, _my_! Oh, Little Rickie! Come here so I can _see _you, dear!" Aldrich obediently threw the balcony doors open wide and went out to plant a kiss on her wide forehead.

"Oh, let me step up a bit here," Troll Mother said, and her chin rose to the top of the balcony railing. Yuuri couldn't imagine what she was stepping up _on_ – that balcony was twenty feet in the air. Surely she couldn't be that big? "Oh! Oh, yes! Oh, dear Little Rickie! Of course I remember you! Oh, sweetie, you look so_ pretty _in your blue dress! And those adorable little blond curls on your forehead! But sweetie, you haven't introduced the little girl and boys behind you. I'm afraid I may have interrupted them in something…"

"Oh, Troll Mother, this is my Manfred, and Manfred's son Wolfram – she's actually a boy in the pink nightgown – and Wolfram's Yuuri. Wolfram's Yuuri is the new Maou, Troll Mother."

"Ah…how do you do?" said Yuuri, stepping forward and gamely offering her his hand to shake.

Aldrich shook his head and just waved with his right hand. "Yuuri, trolls wave. Except, use your left hand."

"Now, why aren't _you_ waving with your left, Little Rickie?" she chided gently.

Aldrich held up his left to show her. He'd lost his left arm at the elbow sometime before Wolfram was born. Though apparently more recently than he'd last seen Troll Mother. "I lost it, Troll Mother. I was silly one time in Suberia with the army. It was almost a hundred years ago. You've been asleep a long time! We've missed you!"

"Oh, my," she crooned sympathetically. "Now, what do you mean, you were silly, dear? I'm sure you did your best. You've always been such a _good_ boy." She picked up his shortened arm to examine it, pulling it into the dark to see better.

"Mm, it's a '_small' _ thing, I guess, Troll Mother. I jumped into a river to help my sergeant and trainees, because they got into trouble, after _they_ jumped in to help some women and children, who got caught in a flash flood. But I was commander and they were all trainees. So when my arm got hurt, and my sergeant got dead, everything just kind of fell apart. And I was the only healer, and I passed out. I'm sorry. I wasn't very good at _'army'_, Troll Mother." Aldrich looked thoroughly ashamed of himself.

Yuuri had never heard this story before. Although he supposed someone who was '_good at army_' might agree Aldrich had screwed up, Yuuri tended to think even more highly of the man. Although the contrast between the genius who'd schooled Günter an hour ago, and the childish one standing here now, was a bit bizarre.

"Oh, my," crooned Troll Mather. "Such a shame your father – Feeder was it? that _tiny_ little dear – couldn't fix this, he used to be so _clever_ at fixing broken wings. But it seems to be growing back now. You'll be just _fine_ soon." Aldrich's arm had started regenerating after their meeting with the phoenix during Manfred's wedding cruise – it was indeed about six inches longer already. Troll Mother patted him reassuringly and pulled him to her, back against the railing, palm on his shoulder and forefinger toying with his cowlicked bangs.

"Yes, _'army' _ is a very silly game the small play – running around in little packs killing each other with pigstickers, and then not even eating the fallen, it's all so terribly wasteful." She clucked her enormous tongue. "I do hope you ate your arm, Rickie?"

Aldrich grinned at this treatment of his devastating, career-ending, marriage-mangling accident. "I don't know where my arm got to. I guess it went downstream."

"Oh, that's a shame, dear. Oh, oh! I wanted to thank whoever for putting up the pretty little tent in the yard for us. So _thoughtful!_"

"Oh, that's just for your trolls, Troll Mother – there aren't any bedrooms big enough inside. But Yuuri has a room ready for you! And your small can have rooms inside too. Did you bring any small?"

"Oh, you don't need to trouble with that! Smalls can sleep in the pretty tent with my trolls. But oh, that's so _sweet!_ You made up a little room for me inside! Why, _thank you_,Wolfram's Yuuri!" She screwed her face into maximum smile, which made her face about three and a half feet wide and only two and a half feet tall, folds or wrinkles rearranging themselves accordingly. Her huge smile showed off equally huge dimples. She did look rather like those cute potbellied plastic trolls, except the nose was quite straight. And the potbelly trolls didn't have pointed front teeth the size of postcards, and wickedly sharp canine fangs around ten inches long. But it was a very sweet smile.

Aldrich's idiotic grin showed off similar dimples, if nothing else. "Well, Troll-Mother, you must be _hungry_. Though we may only have one chair inside big enough for you. Did you walk all the way from Trondheim since sunset? I wasn't expecting you so early!" Trondheim lay beyond Krist – a good three day's ride, Yuuri rather thought. Of course, horse's legs were… shorter.

"Oh, yes, it's a lovely night for walking! But I _am_ rather hungry. And I brought _sausages _for everybody!" She reached down and brought up a small red burlap bag which she'd apparently been carrying on her person, which couldn't have held more than a few pounds of sausage. "Oh, but please, could you have these cooked up separately? These are special, just for Rickie and Dorie and me." She placed them on the balcony. "The rest are in the main packs…"

"Hand me down, and I'll go with you, Troll Mother, and show you the way," said Aldrich. Troll Mother fondly obliged, plucking up the broad-shouldered six-footer with ease, like a mother picking up a small child.

Yuuri went to the railing and looked down as they walked away, Aldrich hand in hand with his great-grandmother. Troll Mother was certainly less than twice his height, though not by much. Yuuri looked straight down. There was nothing there she could have been standing on. He turned back to Manfred and Wolfram, who'd said nothing the whole time.

"Um, who's Dorie?" Yuuri asked.

In Aldrich's big cambric nightgown with the sleeves rolled up, his father-in-law-to-be looked very small and forlorn. He was staring at the little red sack of sausages. "Ted," Manfred whispered, then cleared his throat. "Teodor von Trondheim, is Dorie."

oOo

Note: if you're not familiar with German, a –ch at the end of a word is kind of a hissed hard -ck. (Like the '_ch_' in the Hebrew toast '_LeChaim_'.) Point being, "Aldrich" is pronounced all-drick-h. Similarly, Friedrich (Free-drick-h) and Dietrich (Dee-trick-h).

And in case you missed it in the intro, I do have drawings of Aldrich, Teodor, Adelbert, and Brendan (and Efram and Manfred, etc.) on the "homepage" link on my author profile. Just their faces on the main page, but the troll-kin's upper torsos are included on the "Men Who Are Not Tame" illustration.

_Reviews so far seem interested in the question, "What if any Mazoku beast went into Wolfram?" More suggestions / requests / theories? For Wolfram or others? _

_Remember, if you're getting lost, there is a summary on my homepage._

_Please review?_


	3. Entrolled

you Kara Maou : The Trouble With Trolls

Summary: Wolfram's attempt to bypass Maou Wedding Curse with a small family ceremony, backfires when an uninvited relative arrives - the Troll Mother.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

_Please review._

Chapter 3 : Entrolled

Manfred forced his eyes away from the cheery little red sack of special sausages for Troll Mother and Little Rickie and Dorie. "Wolfram," he said, "your quest to Bielenfeld and Gratz just got… urgent. I need Friedrich and Lord Wincott _now_. I need Cecilie to get you there, and them back, as fast as possible. The Donza River is empty at this hour – she can sail the yacht full-out, drop you off in Bielenfeld, collect Lord Wincott, come back for Friedrich, and be back here by noon. And once Friedrich's moving to the dock, _you_ run like hell for Gratz. No, better yet, collect Dietrich and Friedrich, and hitch a ride back to Gratzport with Cheri."

"Understood, Chichiue," said Wolfram softly. "Have you ever seen Aldrich… like _that _before?"

"No. He may be entrolled. See you on the other side, pretty vixen," Manfred said, clasping Wolfram's shoulder in a quick good-bye. "Yuuri, let's catch Gwendal before this… meal. And we need to send _those_ down to be cooked. Very, _very_ separately. And throw the pot away afterward…"

Yuuri shared a quick kiss and firm hand-clasp with Wolfram. "I love you," he murmured. "Be careful? And hug and kiss the kids every day for me?"

"Always," Wolfram murmured. "Yuuri… Aldrich… take care of him for me?"

Yuuri frowned in question, but Wolfram didn't elaborate, just gave him another kiss and motioned him to go. Yuuri had to run down the hall to catch up with Manfred, whose once-lame leg was good as new these days. Gwendal's room turned out to be a popular destination. Conrad and Günter and Ted von Trondheim had preceded them, and the meeting was spilling out into the hall.

Manfred slowed and approached warily. "Oh, hi, Ted. Have you seen Troll Mother yet?"

"No, not yet," he replied, eyes shining above a huge dopey smile. "I can't wait! Oh, I love Troll Mother! Isn't she nice?"

Yuuri abruptly realized that he didn't need to ask what _'entrolled'_ meant. It meant – _that_. The top-ranking peacetime general of all Shin Makoku stood before him, clearly stoned out of his gourd, childlike and silly, just as Aldrich had been.

"Oh, we won't keep you long, then. But before you go, I was hoping you could help me," Manfred said. Ted was only momentarily puzzled by the fact that he hadn't intended to go anywhere. "Aldrich says he's one-eighth troll. Is that right?"

"Yes, one-eighth," confirmed the massive over six-and-a-half footer Ted, with the exaggerated nod of a kindergartener. "Troll Mother said."

"And Aldrich's mother – she's your father's full sister, yes?" Again with the idiot nod. "And you're one quarter troll?"

"I'm three eighths. My mother was a quarter troll. My father was half-troll."

"But Aldrich's mother was your father's full sister, right?"

"That's right."

"So your father's mother and father were both half trolls?" _Nod._ "But his father was a… small half troll?"

"Yeah, he was half troll, half elf. That's why we're so delicate," answered Ted agreeably. There was nothing delicate about Ted von Trondheim. In fact, there was a striking family resemblance to Troll Mother. His front teeth were even pointy, and his canine teeth… long. This zoned out Ted seemed oblivious to the simple arithmetic journey Manfred was leading him on.

"So your Aunt Alana was half troll, quarter elf, like your father." _Nod._ "So Aldrich is a quarter troll, eighth elf."

"No – Aldrich is an eighth troll. Troll Mother said."

"Is he a quarter elf then?" Manfred asked, in pure irritation.

"Huh?"

"How's your brother, Ted?" interrupted Gwendal.

"Oh, really great!" said Ted, breaking into a wide dimpled grin – a _very_ wide grin, Yuuri noticed. Trolls seemed to have rather flexible jaws. "He wrote me a letter just last week. He was the happiest I've heard in a long time. He was so glad he woke Troll Mother. She just makes everything – _better._ You know?"

Manfred nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, we won't keep you any longer, Ted. Oh, on the way, take these sausages to the kitchen for me, will you? To be cooked very, very separately."

"Oh!" Ted's eyes widened. "Oh, sure thing, Manfred, yeah. Seeya, guys."

Once Ted was out of earshot, Yuuri said sadly, "He wasn't lying. He believed what he was saying. He couldn't see that it didn't make sense." Yuuri liked Ted. The man was thorough and calm, always got his facts straight, the ideal man in an emergency. Yet Ted couldn't even add fractions correctly if the result would contradict what '_Troll Mother Said'_.

"So, is Aldrich entrolled, too?" said Gwendal. "Wasn't that the theory, Günter? That an eighth troll or less couldn't get entrolled?"

Günter's arms were crossed stubbornly over his chest. "What does it matter? It appears Lord Aldrich is a _quarter_ troll, over 200 years of age. Your majesty, it is complete _folly_ to let that _troll_ speak on your behalf to Troll Mother!"

"Is it?" answered Yuuri slowly, thinking of Wolfram's request, that he take care of Aldrich. Then he shook his head in abrupt decision. "Lord Aldrich has done nothing wrong. He greeted his great-grandmother according to her people's customs. We did ask him here as a cultural go-between. Ah, Günter – we moved up the timetable on Wolfram's departure for Bielenfeld. You'd better get moving."

"But your _majesty!_" Günter wailed. "You need me here to _protect _you!"

"No, friend," replied Yuuri. "I need you to go to Bielenfeld and protect my children. And Manfred's, Adelbert's, Gwendal's, Lord Aldrich's, and Lord Brendan's children as well. I'm trusting you with their lives."

As Günter headed off only somewhat mollified, Conrad echoed Yuuri's thoughts. "You know, that was rather odd of Aldrich, setting up a '_side quest_' to '_keep the Krists busy_'. A little quest involving the Maou's, plus the heirs to _three_ domains."

Gwendal sighed. "Including _mine_. What's your verdict, Manfred? Is he entrolled? Or more to the point, can he be trusted?"

Manfred looked at Yuuri thoughtfully, then looked away. "Aldrich was not entrolled when he asked us to send the children away. He was perfectly lucid over his potatoes this evening. And… scheming. A rather elaborate scheme, actually…" He looked Gwendal in the eye. "There is no way Aldrich would endanger Dietrich and Efram and the other children. If he sent them away, they're safer that way. I'm sure of it."

Yuuri asked, "Why did you send for Friedrich and Lord Wincott in such a hurry, Manfred?"

Manfred looked away again at that. "We may need to pull an Aldrich on Aldrich, and depose him as Lord Bielenfeld, if his judgment… seems impaired. I'd need Friedrich and Lord Wincott to do it." Yuuri had no trouble interpreting this – Aldrich had deposed Friedrich as Lord Bielenfeld during the pirate affair. The maneuver required an heir and a spare. Or in this case, an heir's regent, since Aldrich's son Dietrich was too young – presumably Manfred or Friedrich was that regent. Yuuri was unsure what Lord Wincott had to do with it. Possibly they required him present, as the eldest and leader of the Eleven Aristocrats.

"Besides," Manfred continued, "this whole troll-management scheme after the Great Troll and Goblin War was their doing. If we're not sure we can trust Aldrich, we should go to the source. Your father General Lord Walde was the hero of that war, but… it sounds like not much troll lore got passed down to you, Gwendal."

"No, Hahaue forbade Günter to teach us about trolls and goblins," agreed Gwendal uncomfortably. Conrad nodded.

"It shows," said Manfred. "Fortunately Cecilie couldn't forbid _me_ – Wolfram and Efram know their stuff. Gwendal, being an eighth troll instead of a quarter troll wouldn't make Aldrich immune to entrollment. There are only a handful of Mazoku races who are fully immune. Demons _are_ one of them. But you're not a pureblood demon. Are you," he said pointedly. "The problem in Aldrich's case, is that quarter trolls over 200… _'go to the trolls'_."

"Well, gentlemen," interrupted Yuuri, "I've no intention of letting my vassal Lord Aldrich _'go to the trolls'_, whatever that means. Right now, we have, um, a late-night snack with a visiting dignitary to attend to. Do you recommend that I remove Lord Aldrich from the proceedings?"

"No," they all replied. Conrad added, "We don't have a choice, Sire. None of us understands trolls."

"She seems to speak clearly enough," observed Yuuri.

"I disagree, Wolfram's Yuuri," said Manfred sardonically. "Yuuri, I'd like nothing better than for you to get Aldrich the hell away from Troll Mother before she eats him. But let him find out what she wants first."

"Amen to that," said Gwendal. He looked more than a little worried by Manfred's comment about his ancestry. Yuuri recalled that Aldrich had said something earlier about that, which had caused Gwendal to do an abrupt about-face. But he brushed that question aside. _Let's just deal with the troll for now._

oOo

Yuuri was damned if he was going to sit down to a meal with a – whatever kind of visiting dignitary a Troll Mother was – in his pajamas. By the time he and Gwendal and Conrad made it to the dining room, Aldrich and Ted were already there, clambering up on Troll Mother's chair for fun and chattering away with her in Trondish. Manfred was already sitting there quietly, still in Aldrich's borrowed nightshirt. Annissina couldn't very well make a troll chair short enough to fit under the dining table. So she'd placed the table and regular chairs on a raised dais, leaving only Troll Mother's chair on the floor. Aldrich, still in his blue nightshirt, looked particularly small and precious with his bare shins and feet dangling.

"Oh, oh! Our host is here, move along to your own chairs, little dears!" Troll Mother lifted Aldrich and Ted down off her chair to their seats on either side of her. On cue, now that the Maou had arrived, the bleary-eyed kitchen staff brought in huge bowls of sausages and Tarkenburg purple and Bielenfeld blue potatoes, plus a smaller bowl of sausages set between Troll Mother and Ted.

"Now, Little Rickie, are you sure it's Wolfram's Yuuri who is Maou now, and not the other way around?" Troll Mother asked him in a stage whisper, which made the silverware dance. "The pink girl looked more like the Maou."

"I'm sure," said Aldrich. "Manfred's Cecilie was the Maou before. Manfred's Cecilie is Wolfram's mother, but Wolfram's Yuuri is Maou now. And the girl in pink is a boy, but she's not here now."

Yuuri couldn't imagine how this served as a clarification.

"Ah, well, she was a little confusing anyway," allowed Troll Mother. "I made these sausages myself, Wolfram's Yuuri," she said, finally addressing Yuuri. "I do so hope you like them."

Aldrich demonstrated troll table manners by pushing his spork under his plate and stabbing a sausage from the big bowl, to eat directly off his knife. "Yum! These are really good, Troll Mother! Is this venison?"

"Yes, dear, pork and venison. I do hope they're not too spicy for your small friends? I don't usually cook for such _very_ small."

Yuuri realized that the men around him sighed out breaths they were holding at Aldrich's first chomp at a sausage. _What, did they think it was people sausage?_ He elected to show leadership by stabbing a sausage for himself and eating it off the knife as Aldrich had. "Mm, delicious! You are a very good cook, Troll Mother!" he said. "It is appropriate for me to call you Troll Mother? Or…?" he directed that at Aldrich.

Aldrich nodded in unconcern. "Troll Mother, I'd like you to try these potatoes. They're from my domain, Bielenfeld. My own plantation grows the blue ones, but I like the purples best."

"Oh, they're very pretty, dear! You have your own plantation? Why that's handy! Now, I was hoping to see Little Danny's boy, I heard he lived here now?"

Ted frowned, something important vaguely troubling him. "Um, Troll Mother, Adelbert –"

"Bert's not home," interrupted Aldrich. "He works for Yuuri's Conrad," he explained, pointing at Conrad. "That's Yuuri's Conrad and Yuuri's Gwendal. They're my Manfred's step-sons, Wolfram's brothers. Yuuri's Gwendal and Conrad are Aristocrats like me, but Gwendal is also the chancellor. Yuuri's Conrad deals with humans."

"Oh! Well, I'm pleased to meet you! I hope Danny's Bertie is doing a good job for you, Yuuri's Conrad! Danny's Bertie is around your age, isn't he, Dorie?"

"A little younger," replied Ted. "He's Aldrich's Manfred's age."

"Ah! Well, humans certainly do take a lot of watching after," said Troll Mother. "I'm sure you and Danny's Bertie keep busy, Yuuri's Conrad. Why just the other week we had another human who ignored the anti-poaching signs. Came in waving a fancy pigsticker around, saying something about how being a hero, he had to protect people from evil trolls. Never did figure out what evil trolls the silly small was talking about."

Yuuri had a sinking feeling. "What was his name?"

"Afro Muckraker or something. Why, did you know him?"

"Ah, yes. Could we… have him back?"

"No, dear, I'm afraid we ate him. I'm sorry, I didn't know he was a friend of yours. Maybe Lord Erick would have invited you to the death feast?" She looked uncertainly at Aldrich at this. Trondheims didn't normally invite outsiders to death feasts – she was under the impression they didn't like to come.

Yuuri saw the point of impact on Aldrich's face. For a fleeting instant, across Aldrich's bland euphoria registered – _rage_. But as quickly as it came, it vanished, as Troll Mother looked to Aldrich for cross-cultural guidance. He nodded to her blandly.

"Are these him?" asked Ted, indicating the special bowl. "Afro Muckraker?"

"Why no, dear." Troll Mother put her hand on Aldrich's shoulder and toyed with his bangs with her forefinger again, glancing at him in concern. "These are Little Lin. Now, Little Rickie, you _are_ going to be a troll about this, aren't you? Franklin wouldn't like it if you acted _small_ at his death feast."

_Oh, no,_ thought Yuuri. '_Lord Erick' is what Aldrich reacted to. Erick is Franklin's son..._

Ted needed no urging to be a troll about it. He stuck a knife into a chunk of his older brother eagerly. "_Lin?_ Really, Troll Mother? Oh, wow! Franklin went to the trolls, Rick!"

Troll Mother swatted Ted playfully, chiding, "Wait for the prayer, dear. Lin's Rickie should lead it for us, he was closest." She helpfully stabbed a sausage and handed it to him. "You do remember the words, don't you, Little Rickie?"

Aldrich stared blankly at the sausage of his oldest, dearest friend for a moment. Troll Mother continued petting him. Then he nodded and smiled a little. "_Shamshesh allem, Franklin rehs…_" he began, Ted and Troll Mother joining him for the rest of the prayer.

And then Yuuri's vassal Lord Aldrich von Bielenfeld did bite into and eat a sausage of Yuuri's late vassal Lord Franklin von Trondheim. As did Franklin's younger brother and great-grandmother. And they ate in silence until all of Lord Franklin was gone.

Gwendal and Conrad and Manfred and Yuuri sipped the water slowly, to keep their stomachs down.

oOo

They saw Troll Mother off to the ballroom-made-bedroom as the sky started to lighten. She said perhaps they'd get to a little business at breakfast that night. She invited Aldrich in with her, but Manfred firmly held onto him, and she didn't insist. Ted happily joined her instead.

The remaining men walked up the hallway in silence until they turned to the right. Once around the bend, Aldrich stumbled into the wall and slowly slid down it to the floor, hugging himself and shaking, his one good hand over his mouth.

Manfred slid down the wall next to him. "Feel free to vomit," he suggested.

"No. No! No…" Aldrich shook his head more and more vehemently, shaking harder and harder with each syllable. Manfred took him in his arms and held him. "I can't… Franklin wouldn't want… I _will not_ throw up, I… Lin…"

"_Shamshesh allem?_ Is that how it starts?" Yuuri said gently, squatting down by Aldrich.

"_Shamshesh allem…_" Manfred repeated softly, as the tears poured down Aldrich's face.

"_Shamshesh allem, Franklin rehs_ – damn you, Franklin, you didn't even say good-bye!" Aldrich broke down sobbing completely, his face buried in Manfred's borrowed nightgown.

Yuuri stroked Aldrich's back. He said gently, "Manfred, you and Lord Aldrich should get some rest. Then perhaps you could meet with us at three, for further discussions?"

Manfred nodded gratefully. Yuuri and Gwendal and Conrad left them there, to go sleep for a few hours themselves.

oOo

Aldrich cried himself to sleep, cuddled in Manfred's arms in the big bed. Manfred stayed wakeful a long time, watching the sunrise, tenderly stroking Aldrich's frazzled blue and blond hair, the broad back's satin skin, the foreshortened arm.

It wasn't long before Wolfram was born, when Aldrich lost his arm and his military career. Manfred was so caught up in trying to make a life with Cecilie, he hadn't been there at all for Aldrich, indeed nagged at his older cousin in letters to help _him_, to make Friedrich and Stoeffel agree to their marriage. And though Aldrich approved of the marriage even less than Friedrich, he did what he could, because Manfred asked it.

Manfred hadn't realized how bad it had been for Aldrich until his own leg and career were destroyed, and Cecilie sent him packing back to Castle Bielenfeld, humiliated and living rage. But Aldrich knew exactly what he was going through – he'd been living it himself, and worse. Seven of Aldrich's men died of his failure as a commander, and he couldn't forgive himself for it. His marriage to Glynda von Wincott had gone from lousy to hideous. She told him daily how his body disgusted her. She couldn't bear to look at his arm, or let it touch her. He fell into the bottom of a bottle for years. Just a month before Manfred came home, Glynda had gotten particularly vicious one night, and he'd hit her. Strong as he was, and tiny as she was, the one punch shattered her jaw.

Friedrich was able to heal her jaw completely within the day, of course. No one was ever able to heal their marriage. Not that it had been worth saving before then. Sweet-tempered – _trollishly so_ – Aldrich was so horrified by what he'd done, that he never touched a drop of alcohol again. He was still shaking from withdrawal when Manfred came home, not knowing any of this. He hadn't asked. He'd been too caught up in his own life, having turned his back on Bielenfeld years before. He saw Aldrich at cousin reunions, of course, almost every Winterfair and Summerfair. He'd been peripherally aware that Franklin and Friedrich were worried by Aldrich's drinking. But Aldrich was sixty years older, a fixture, an adult to lean on, strong as the 6,000 year old stone of Castle Bielenfeld.

When Manfred came home in defeat, a shaky Aldrich had taken him into his own room to care for him. Aldrich healed his leg four times a day for pain management, and taught him to do it. He dropped everything to be with Manfred, help him deal with his rage, negotiate to adopt Wolfram formally as his heir and remain in his life, help him figure out what to do with his own life next. They faced their pain together and healed together, and became able to stand and pick up their lives again. And both rejected by their women, feeling that their bodies were repulsive to anyone but each other, they fell into each other's arms as lovers.

Glynda had been furious. She'd leaned on her cousin Suzanna Julia to put a stop to this. They'd fought it, but… Cecilie's hold on Wolfram was a powerful bargaining chip, and Cecilie and Suzanna were fast friends. Manfred landed up installed at the Bielenfeld Majutsu Institute, studying and then teaching. Aldrich remained at Castle Bielenfeld, taking over more and more of the running of the domain from his elderly father. Sometimes they went years without falling into bed again. But if ever Manfred needed Aldrich, he was there. Sometimes he never even knew how Aldrich found out. Manfred had never told a soul about his daughter – yet the night she was born, Aldrich was there to hold him and make love to him, tell him it was still alright, he was still Manfred, and Aldrich still loved him completely. Manfred's sources weren't on a par with Aldrich's vast intelligence network, of course, but he did have Uncle Friedrich and Aldrich's valet on the inside. So he was there just as much for Aldrich, clandestinely.

Gradually, patient sweet, politically brilliant Aldrich managed a détente with the mentally unstable Glynda, to the point that after over a hundred years of marriage, their only child Dietrich was born. Both men had rich lives, dear friends, rewarding work, children to raise. They met as lovers less, and as friends more. When Manfred married Cecilie, it hadn't felt like he was choosing Cecilie over Aldrich. He and Cecilie were both proponents of free love, and Glynda didn't really give a damn who Aldrich slept with, so long as it wasn't her. It hadn't seemed an issue if they kept up their liaison now and then.

That changed the night Glynda committed suicide after Aldrich at long last asked her for a divorce, two years ago.

Aldrich had no shortage of suitors – women came out of the woodwork trying to marry him. He was beautiful, popular, powerful, and vastly wealthy, and never lost his sweet trollish humility and charm – that he was known to be bisexual and part troll was no barrier at all in the aristocratic marriage market. He'd come very close to accepting Lady Kattrin von Wincott, a warm motherly woman older than Cecilie. But, Manfred… asked him not to. Asked him to wait. Suggested he take a break from marriage for a decade or so, get his head clear, not remarry on the rebound from the disaster with Glynda, give himself and Dietrich time to heal. So Lady Kattrin departed back to Wincott. But Manfred remained – back in Bielenfeld more and more, in fact.

_I wasn't willing to give him up to Kattrin,_ he admitted to himself. _I accepted that he wouldn't leave Glynda – until he did. But without Glynda in the equation… I kept him for me. Cecilie, Wolfram, I ought never to forgive myself for this. But the truth is, I made him put everyone else aside for me, and he's never complained. And now, there's only me, and I love him… I won't let him go. Whatever it takes. I'm sorry._

Manfred touched Aldrich's face, traced his lip. Aldrich's mouth was slightly open in sleep. Manfred couldn't resist pushing in a finger, pressing down a little on Aldrich's back teeth – a quirk of Aldrich's, it made him melt in lovemaking.

Aldrich roused a little and sucked his finger. Manfred thought he was still asleep until he said, "Gunna get you fwinger hut, Manfwed. Mm, no, don't take it out…" And Aldrich reached his handless arm around Manfred and pulled him tight for a deep kiss. "Nice… Can't sleep?"

"Don't talk," said Manfred. "Just let me make love to you."

Aldrich grinned, and flashed long-lashed green von Bielenfeld eyes, almost identical to Manfred's. "Afraid of troll gibberish?"

"No. I'm Aldrich's Manfred. My Aldrich talks better than me. I'd rather make love."

_Don't leave me. Don't follow Adeldan and Franklin. Don't go to the trolls, Aldrich._

oOo

Cecilie's errands got cut remarkably short. When they tied up to Castle Bielenfeld's deluxe guest pier, amidst the miles of river piers that served the pleasure boats and agricultural powerhouse of Bielenfeld, the entire to-find roster was waiting for them at the dockhouse – Brendan Lord Gratz and his son Trenton, Aldrich's father Friedrich and son Dietrich von Bielenfeld, and Lord Everett von Wincott, regent of Wincott. Adelbert von Gratz was even there as a bonus.

Wolfram jumped off the yacht first to find out what was going on. Brendan sent Trenton and Dietrich aboard to 'help' the other children disembark. The men retired back into the dockhouse to talk, before Friedrich and Lord Wincott headed back downriver to Shin Makoku proper.

"We were expecting to spend half the day finding all of you," said Wolfram.

Brendan laughed. "No, Aldrich asked at least one of us to be here by midnight, though he didn't really expect you here til dawn. He didn't want to risk us all off hunting for each other in the dark. And the royal dockhouse is pretty comfortable, so we just spent the night down here." Indeed the von Bielenfeld family "dockhouse" was a mansion in its own right, carved of the same pinkish granite as the castle and most of prosperous Castletown.

Friedrich nodded. "You made good time – how goes it at Blood Pledge Castle?"

"Ah… fine?" said Wolfram. "Troll Mother arrived around 1 am… Aldrich… Chichiue asked me to hurry and get the children here and you and Lord Wincott back to him as fast as possible, because Aldrich _'might be entrolled'._ He was acting… strange, when he spoke to Troll Mother. Childish, almost simple-minded."

Von Wincott frowned. "He shouldn't have been entrolled."

Friedrich nodded. "Well, he may have been acting, but he can look pretty silly just talking to trolls. Still, we should get going. Anything else we need to know?"

Wolfram folded his arms crossly. "You already seem to know a lot more than _I_ do. _I_ was told I was being sent on this _adventure in babysitting_ to get the Krists out of Aldrich's hair, because Krists don't like trolls. And fetching _you_ two was just a last minute tack-on errand from Chichiue."

"Ah, good! You have both Efram and Günter, then?" said Friedrich, peeking out the foyer window to look at the group disembarking.

"Your son's very thorough, as usual, Friedrich," applauded elderly von Wincott.

"My son…" complained Friedrich, sour yet pleased, "I'd say he's making me old. It's probably more accurate to say his hair-raising schemes keep me young."

Von Wincott and Brendan laughed. Brendan said, "Well, I can fill Wolfram in on the rest then. You'd best be going, Uncle, Lord Wincott."

"Contact us in one week, without fail?" confirmed Friedrich. "We won't be able to contact you at all?"

"Not if you don't know where we're going," agreed Brendan cheerfully, exchanging handclasps with both the older men. "See you on the other side."

oOo

_Please review? I hope this chapter got a little clearer than the last? Sorry, it's a little tricky. Aldrich is the only one who really understands what's going on, and he's playing his cards awfully close to his chest, the schemer…_


	4. The Game

Kyou Kara Maou : The Trouble With Trolls

Summary: Wolfram's attempt to bypass Maou Wedding Curse with a small family ceremony, backfires when an uninvited relative arrives - the Troll Mother.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Reminder: there's a family tree on my "homepage" link on the jinjyaa "author's profile". If you can't keep these people straight, don't worry about the spoilers, just look at the chart. Sorry – the chart _can't_ be put on fanfiction dot net – no formatting available.

_Japanese: _"_ani**ue**_" means "older brother **_above_**", "_aniki_" or "_onii-san_" less exalted "older brother". Likewise "_chichi**ue**_" vs. "_chichi_" or "_otou-san_". Normally, one's older brother or father would outrank one, but that isn't the case with Brendan Lord Gratz or Aldrich Lord Bielenfeld, who rule in place of the disgraced Adelbert and retired Friedrich. So, by calling Adelbert "aniki", Brendan isn't being affectionate, he's pulling rank. Aldrich is simply being correct by calling his father "chichi" – Friedrich wouldn't permit him to do otherwise. I used the Japanese when I started this series of stories, because this feudalism is part of the social fabric of Shin Makoku, and sounds really stilted in English.

_Please review._

Chapter 4 : The Game

"But my _wedding_ is in 5 days…" Wolfram complained.

"Really, cousin? My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail," said Brendan. Wolfram winced. "Adelbert, time's up, are you coming or going?"

"_Where_ are you going?" his older brother demanded.

"The rules stand, aniki," said Brendan, arms crossed over his chest. "If you come with us, you obey me. If you can't do that, go away. Only the ones with me get to know where we're going or why."

"And my _daughter?_" Six-year-old Frieda von Gratz was on the pier, hand in hand with sixteen-year-old Greta. Since Adelbert was gone much of the time working for Conrad, Frieda was fostered with Wolfram and Yuuri.

"Frieda stays with Wolfram and me."

Wolfram noticed Cecilie's yacht was already casting off from the pier. He suspected this had much to do with the argument – Brendan was stalling Adelbert to keep him off that boat. Much as Wolfram sympathized with Adelbert, he needed to pick his battles wisely with Brendan. Adelbert was free to go, but Wolfram was not. So he kept his mouth shut and let them argue while his mother made good her getaway. Then turned and nodded to Brendan.

Brendan acknowledged this with a nod. "No more discussion, Adelbert, we need to go. Are you with us or not?"

"_Damn_ you, Brendan," said Adelbert, then grudgingly conceded, "With you."

"And you vow to obey me. And _no one_ leaves this party without my permission," insisted Brendan. Adelbert balked – Brendan was fifty years his junior, closer in age to Wolfram. Brendan added, "I remind you your liege Lord Weller sent you to me."

"Without being _informed_," Adelbert pointed out. "Alright. I so vow,_ Lord Gratz_."

"Thank you."

Brendan had them trade places, the children brought into the dockhouse, so all the adults and adolescents could talk freely out on the pier without watching them as carefully.

"Alright, people," Brendan began, "the game we're playing is '_hide the heir_'. Aldrich's playing for time in Shin Makoku, trying to give us a head start. But there's no guarantee the opponent isn't already moving. Ground rules – we tell no one anything outside this group, including the children. We're not on this trip to make friends – keep your lips sealed. Wolfram, you're second in command. No one leaves the group without my permission. If I'm lost, Wolfram is absolute dictator. If we're both lost – Shinou be with you.

"First order of business: where we're going. Anyone have a strong preference between the Fens of Krist, or Spitzweg? And why."

"I can raise an army in Spitzweg, if need be," offered Wolfram.

Brendan shook his head. "We're incognito – if we need an army, it's past time to surrender." He and Annissina stared at Wolfram appraisingly. "We could die his hair… cut it… contact lenses…"

"Maybe if you broke his nose as well," opined Annissina. "It's no good, Brendan. Those Emeraude von Bielenfeld eyes – Spitzweg, Walde, Weller, Gratz, Wincott, Bielenfeld, it doesn't matter. The average swineherd would recognize Wolfram in any of those domains, or Shin Makoku proper."

The late Emeraude was Friedrich's full sister. The distinctive build, satiny clear skin, heart-shaped face, cowlicks, but especially the huge breathtaking green eyes, had proved equally heritable from either of them. But Friedrich had stayed in Bielenfeld, while the legendary beauty Emeraude had married into the ruling families of first Wincott, then Spitzweg. Wolfram descended from both Friedrich and Emeraude. "You and Adelbert can't exactly hide in a breadbox, either," Annissina added.

"My people are from the Fens," offered Efram. "I know them. My mother and stepfather are back there, now, in fact."

Brendan nodded, "I was counting on it, Efram. Günter too, I imagine." Günter nodded. A low-ranked member of the ruling von Krists, Günter was raised in Krist Hall. But the Fens covered a good third of the domain. "The Fens it is. Our ride should be here soon." He gestured vaguely at the river.

"What's going on, Brendan?" asked Wolfram. "What is this game?" _No need to ask who's the puppetmaster,_ he thought. _Aldrich…_

"The overall game is survival, demon versus troll. Aldrich is the master player for our side. We're just one piece on his board, though one very close to his heart. Troll Mother is his opponent.

"All the other great Mazoku races have dwindled. Some, like the goblins and elves, have intermingled heavily with demons, though some purebloods remain. Others seem to be gone, like the wood nymphs. The trolls fared worst of all, trapped on the losing side in Shinou's Great War. Only Troll Mother survived, a pregnant young princess, secreted away by her faithful goblins.

"But trolls are a good deal smarter and more powerful than the lesser races, demons included. Starting from herself and her son, Troll Mother has rebuilt her tribe, and now has descendants ruling three of Shin Makoku's ten allied domains. How much power she has over them – over _me _– remains unclear. I've never met her – she's been asleep since before I was born. While she hibernates to prolong her life, the Daughters play a quiet game, upbreeding part-trolls to higher-trolls in secret. Lord Franklin von Trondheim may know their strength. I don't."

"Is Franklin on Troll Mother's side, or Aldrich's?" asked Wolfram.

"Neutral, for as long as possible, we hope," said Brendan. "The game's been delayed a bit, thanks to Franklin. He was supposed to wake Troll Mother years ago, soon after Aldrich's 200th birthday party. But Aldrich," he snorted, "applied himself and finally got Glynda pregnant, then leaned on Franklin to wait so he could see his son's childhood. Then the human-demon wars were splitting Shin Makoku apart. Franklin decided time was up a few years ago, but then Glynda committed suicide. Franklin delayed again to let Aldrich recuperate. But that's likely the last favor we'll get from him. With Troll Mother awake… he'll obey. As will anyone of the slightest goblin ancestry. She has complete control over them, when she chooses."

"_And_ Aldrich," said Günter harshly. "_Aldrich_ is a quarter troll."

Brendan looked unsurprised, though he sighed. The others looked alarmed.

Adelbert said, "That _can't_ be. He's too small. Look at us, we're eighth trolls."

Brendan looked at him sadly. "Aldrich has a lot of short ancestry, aniki. And… we suspect Chichiue was three eighths, like Franklin and Ted. Maybe more. Troll Mother won the first round of this game before Aldrich was born, by tricking Friedrich into thinking Aldrich would be an eighth troll."

Wolfram stole a glance at his half-brother Efram. Efram shook his head slightly. It was possible the others didn't know _all_ of Aldrich's bloodlines. But if so, it was because the game master wanted his pieces playing with incomplete information.

"Why would Friedrich agree to _any_ part troll?" asked Wolfram. "Why risk a third domain in troll hands?"

"Bielenfeld was never supposed to be Aldrich's," Brendan reminded him. "And under Bielenfeld law, it's easy to take it away from him. Friedrich was trying to trick _her_. The last game was the Great Troll and Goblin War. Our best troll expert was General von Walde, Gwendal's father, a quarter-goblin, directing it under strict guard from a tower at Blood Pledge Castle, with Lord Wincott pouring anti-entrollment potions into him. That war ended with a negotiated truce, not a win. The von Trondheims won a place in the Ten Aristocrats. The trolls won complete autonomy within their section of Trondheim. The Maou leaned on Friedrich, and he agreed to provide a Bielenfeld-style cradle buddy to Franklin, to truly know the troll-kin. So that this time, we'd stand a better chance. Though of course, in the meantime, they've also grown stronger."

"_Gwendal?_ Is part-_goblin?_" Günter asked in horror.

_And _that's_ why Hahaue didn't want you teaching us about trolls and goblins_, thought Wolfram. _Racist. Serves you right that your favorite pupil is of a race you'd like to genocide. Well, favorite pupil before Yuuri, anyway…_ Goblin was a tricky ancestry. All discernable traits – including intelligence, thank Shinou, for goblins were a truly stupid bunch – came from the demon side of a demon-goblin mix.

"Grendel's even more goblin," said Annissina softly. "I'm a quarter. As well as mermaid." The goblin part was a surprise, mermaid not. There was some question whether the von Khrennikov were more mermensch than demon. "Am I… a danger to Grendel's safety?"

"Thank you for telling me, Annissina," Brendan said gently. "No, no danger, now that I know of it. Even I am troll enough to entroll you. Aldrich taught me how. We practice on Gwendal every year or so, then order him to forget it happened. I make him do the chicken dance, but Aldrich prefers making him a whirling dervish. Your husband has astonishingly good balance against dizziness."

Oddly, it was the right thing to say. Caught between the urge to outrage and the image of Gwendal as a whirling dervish, Annissina just had to laugh.

"They're hostages, then. Our children," said Wolfram. "Including Bertram?"

"All of us, adults included. Trenton and Dietrich and Frieda are her descendants – to Troll Mother, they belong to her, against their parents good behavior. She can use Grendel and demon blood ties between Walde and Trondheim to control Gwendal politically, or control him directly, or use a subtle combination of the two, and possibly Khrennikov as well. Your group belongs to Aldrich's Manfred _and_ the Maou. In her view, Adelbert and I belong to her outright. So Aldrich chose us carefully, put us together, and made sure he wouldn't know where we went, just that we stayed off the board."

"Yuuri," said Greta. "I bet Yuuri could solve this."

"Yes," said Wolfram. "Yuuri needs to know _all_ of this. He would find a way."

"Aldrich's probably briefing Yuuri right now," said Brendan, eyeing the bright beginnings of sunrise. "Aldrich seems to think _this_ is why Shinou had Yuuri born offworld, not the humans or the box problem. But Aldrich wanted Yuuri to come to it fresh, not prejudiced against the trolls. To begin by meeting Troll Mother, not by the seriousness of the situation. Yuuri is Aldrich's most potent game piece."

Wolfram snorted. "As though Aldrich would let a game get that close."

"You're wrong, cousin," Brendan said softly. "Aldrich won't win this game easily. There's only one round Aldrich isn't prepared to concede if need be."

"Us," suggested Efram, confident that Aldrich would protect them at all costs.

"No," said Brendan. "He set it up so that _we_ could protect us, in spite of him if need be. The only round Aldrich won't concede is full scale bloodbath." There was a long silence as they digested that.

"What's the next round?" asked Wolfram. "Assuming we manage to escape being the next round."

"Well, hopefully Troll Mother has other business Aldrich doesn't know about. Which Aldrich will have to ad-lib his way through. Barring that, next up may be Aldrich himself – breeding with Troll Mother. He wouldn't survive. But trolls choose the gender of their children. The prize is a male five-eighths super-troll with both fire healing and earth maryoku. Quite a coup. Breeding up-troll from five-eighths to follow in about 50 years. Unlike Aldrich, _he_ could service however many up-troll females they have. Dietrich could have a veritable army of nephews of unprecedented power."

The fire healing gift bred true to the next male generation with 100 percent accuracy. Likewise a half troll or better was the most powerful earth maryoku bearer of them all. Wolfram's eyes widened at the prospect of that combination. And… _Is that what quarter trolls die of? Breeding? What a way to go…_

"They'd kill Aldrich before they let that happen," Annissina murmured.

"Yuuri won't let them kill him," said Wolfram, quietly but confidently.

"And if Troll Mother wins that round? _Then_ which side are you on, Lord _Gratz?_" challenged Günter.

Wolfram turned on Günter in outrage, only to turn back aghast, as Brendan calmly admitted, "Then we switch to the winning side. The group… may choose to part ways at that point."

_Along non-troll vs. troll-goblin lines, that is._ Wolfram had meant to ask whether it was Brendan or Aldrich who had appointed him second in command of this group. The question died within him unspoken. _Aldrich chose me._

oOo

"Trolls are smarter and more powerful…" said Yuuri thoughtfully. In all truth, he'd assumed a '_highly intelligent Mazoku beast_' meant something along the lines of a gorilla or dolphin. Though now that it was pointed out, it stood to reason that demons used themselves as the frame of reference, and high or low intelligence were relative to them. It was Yuuri who'd assumed demons were the most intelligent. He'd also wrongly assumed the Troll and Goblin War was between the trolls and the goblins. Fortunately, Wolfram had long since drummed into his head that if he realized he'd been an idiot, he could simply correct himself quietly without giving everyone around him a trip report.

They were meeting in his situation room. He was woken when Friedrich von Bielenfeld and Everett von Wincott arrived around 12:30, and they lunched here with Gwendal and Conrad. Manfred left Aldrich sleeping and joined them around two, delivering the hard blow to Friedrich and Everett, that Aldrich was a quarter troll. Aldrich wandered in about forty-five minutes later. Fastidious Friedrich couldn't stand the state of his son's hair, Aldrich having left Bielenfeld without his valet, and unable to rebind his hair single-handedly. So Aldrich knelt before Friedrich, humbly letting his father french-braid his hair, neatly clubbing the end with some thread. The style brought more of the sun-starved lower blue layers of his hair to the surface.

Yuuri had heard most of the history and stakes of the game information Brendan had reviewed with Wolfram's group, though he still believed Wolfram and his children were on the road to a cozy family visit in Gratzberg. As he matured, Yuuri only became better at sitting and listening, reserving judgment, giving his intent attention to each speaker. They'd reached a lull where he sat back to think on what he'd heard.

"Aldrich," he said. "Why am I _'Wolfram's Yuuri'_? I'm having trouble with this _'smart'_ thing vs. … _'Wolfram's Yuuri'_. And that whole girl-in-pink-who's-a-boy thing."

The other men took this light question as a break suitable for refreshing their tea-cups. But Aldrich, his grooming restored to Lordly standards, nodded, quite pleased. "Excellent, Sire! Trolls think differently – smarter, but differently. You see the people first, separate independent abstractions. Relationships between people are subordinate to the person. Likewise the history of the person. Trolls see the web of relationships instead, stretching out from themselves, time-sorted, encompassing… well, anything worth thinking about. The people are more like nodes on a graph, a bit abstract.

"For example, I'm sure you've noticed Ted is very methodical – likes to get all his facts in order, can even seem a little slow-witted, can't understand something until he's sorted it out. But Ted's actually brilliant. Once he has his… mental web… clear, he'll forget nothing, and can instantly and flawlessly weigh anything relevant to any matter at hand. Ted's a very _troll_ thinker."

Gwendal and Manfred, Ted's cronies of well over a century, looked surprised and thoughtful at this. Yuuri kept his eye on the master. "As are you, clearly, Lord Aldrich. Though you can also switch in and out of it with ease… So, am I in some sense _'Wolfram's Yuuri'_ instead of _'the Maou'_? Or in addition to it?"

Aldrich nodded, delighted at Yuuri's grasp of the matter. He'd thanked his father and moved to an armchair by now. "In addition to _'the Maou'_. I'm building her another relationship line to you, giving her another option. And trolls are such nice people." Several of the others rolled their eyes at Aldrich's dogged insistence on that point. Yuuri wished they'd stop that. "She's happy to meet you that way. _'The Maou'_ way, is a serious problem. The history on that line of relationship is – bad. Pain, unbearable loss, treachery and betrayal, genocide, hatred, harking back to the arch genocide of them all, the one who appointed you Maou – Shinou. As long as possible, as much as possible, you want to strengthen _'Aldrich's Manfred's Wolfram's Yuuri'_. The moment you're _'Shinou's Maou Yuuri' _things get… difficult."

"What's her name then? Troll Mother… that's not a name. It's like a declaration of indomitable will. Who was she, before she became her goal?"

Aldrich sat back in his chair, thinking over that excellent insight. Though he didn't know – she was only Troll Mother, and had been for 4,000 years.

But Gwendal unexpectedly pitched in. "Tanya? On my father's death bed, he grabbed my hand at one point, and told me most intently, like it was the most important thing ever, _'The troll's name is Tanya!'_ I think… I'd asked if he had any regrets. Yeah, that was it. He regretted the trolls, he said. I thought he was simply raving at the time. After all, he was responsible for killing more trolls than anyone alive, it seemed impossible that he could regret it. But…"

"He regretted it, deeply," said Lord Wincott. "I stayed with him around the clock, to ensure he didn't get entrolled. He cried in his sleep, and muttered in Trollish – goblins have no language of their own. _'Shaumish…'?_"

"_'Shamshesh allem'_," corrected all the men who'd been at the death feast that morning. Aldrich elaborated, "It's the troll prayer for the dead. It's sort of a regret and acceptance of the dead being's role in the web of life, taking upon yourself the strands of life that once bound that being into the web. To live is to eat, to eat is to kill, to kill is to eat, to eat is to live. That's for people you care about, of course. Nobody gets poetic about taking on the life ties of a mushroom or a poacher. Sorry about your friend, Yuuri, but… He did wander into troll lands looking for the kind of _'evil trolls who eat people'_. And, he found them."

"Yeah, well, Alford was kinda like that," Yuuri said vaguely. "Say, Aldrich, is there any room for negotiation about this trolls killing people to eat them thing?"

"Killing people, _then_ eating them," Aldrich corrected. "Trolls don't kill people_ in order to_ eat them. They killed him because he was a poacher. Granted… trolls consider eating someone else's mushroom or deer or dragon pretty much the same thing. It's a wider definition of _'poacher'_ than usual. But as for eating people once they're dead, no, that's non-negotiable. That's… like a religious rite."

"Though this morning, you didn't care for eating…" Yuuri deliberately left that sentence hanging there, delicately poised.

Aldrich looked away. "I grieved for my oldest friend, Yuuri. That rite _does_ have religious meaning to me. In my will, I've asked that my body be returned to my mother's people. The joy… there's no way in _hell_ I shared Ted's joy at Franklin's choice. Troll Mother had to pet me, entroll me, until I could even behave properly. I gave in to it, as Franklin would have wanted me to. Taking up the web of life, the strands that touched him, where I've stood next to him for my entire life…" Aldrich paused and closed his eyes to get hold of himself. "_That_ was a religious rite."

The room fell silent at that. Friedrich and Manfred and Gwendal looked moved. Conrad and von Wincott were stone-faced.

"That's beautiful," said Yuuri. "Thank you, Lord Aldrich. Yes, I think I understand. No, that wouldn't be negotiable." _Of course, it's still not acceptable to the population at large,_ Yuuri added in mental reservation. He added quietly, "How did Franklin die, Aldrich?"

"He was bred up-troll."

Yuuri frowned. "Explain, please?"

"Troll mother isn't trying to dilute trolls into the sea of demons. She allows down to quarter trolls, but they breed back up-troll when they're old enough, strong enough to stand a chance of surviving."

"So… he was ordered to leave his wife to marry a higher-part troll?"

"Breed, Yuuri, not marry," said Aldrich. "Trolls don't do marriage, that's a demon thing. A highly overrated one, at that."

Friedrich snorted in amusement. "I trust you don't tell all your marriage counseling clients this, Son?"

"I believe they've rather figured that out before they come to me, Chichi," Aldrich replied dryly. One of Aldrich's hobbies was helping aristocratic couples work out their marital problems. It was part of why his web of…

Yuuri blinked and stared at his powerful vassal. _That's how he does it. Aldrich thinks like a troll. He tends his web of relationships hither and yon, my kitchen maids, the valets and grooms, every aristocratic couple whose marriage runs into the rocks, which is just about all of them… Every man who passed through his training troop, every fellow judge at a Bielenfeld agricultural fair, every plantation noble… His web encompasses the entire power structure of Shin Makoku. Adelbert and Wolfram think he's scheming and devious, but he's not. He sees the whole web, all the time, and when a result is needed, he easily sees which threads to tug on. That's amazing, Aldrich!_

Aldrich sat forward in his chair, staring back intently, hoping against hope… "Sire? Have you seen a solution?"

"Hm? Ah, sorry, no. That was an insight into… how you accomplish such amazing results at times, Lord Aldrich. But the problem at hand… not yet. Sorry."

The crash back to hopelessness overcame Aldrich a moment. He sat back in his chair and covered his eyes with his hand.

"Aldrich, let's take a break before this evening starts," suggested Manfred. "You'll need your wits about you."

Behind his hand, Aldrich schooled his face back into its troll pleasant blandness, then re-emerged. "Yes, yes that's that's a good idea, thank you, Manfred. Sire, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me." He turned back at the door briefly, to say, "Ah, Chichi, Lord Wincott, if you could keep a low profile here? I don't imagine renewing your acquaintance with Troll Mother would be …"

"Point taken, Lord Bielenfeld," answered von Wincott. "We shall hide."

"Thank you. Ah, Chichi… in case I don't see you this evening…"

"Then I'll see you _tomorrow_," replied Friedrich firmly. "I have complete faith in you, Son. You'll play a good game, as always."

Aldrich wasn't sure whether he felt strengthened or abandoned by his father's refusal to entertain the possibility that Aldrich might not make it to tomorrow. But he smiled, nodded once in acknowledgement, and left with Manfred.

"Ah, are they, um…?" asked Yuuri.

Gwendal and Conrad looked ready to spit choice words on the subject of their pretty little step-father's indiscretions. But Friedrich cut them off coolly. "Troll Mother's hardly the only one playing for Aldrich's life in this game, Sire. _We_ want him."

Taken aback by Friedrich's vehemence, Yuuri bowed slightly. "As do I, sir. Rest assured. Your son is one of the greatest men of Shin Makoku. I'm profoundly grateful for the work he's doing here."

"Gwendal," Lord Wincott changed the subject smoothly, "I was hoping to borrow your lady wife's laboratories. I believe I could drum up a potion that might help Aldrich. Might that be a good place for us to hide, as well?"

"Shinou, _yes,_" bit out Gwendal. He kept Annissina's demonic laboratories as far from his office and bedroom as the confines of Blood Pledge Castle allowed. "It's in the south tower, I'll lead you there."

"How fitting," Lord Wincott said faintly. The south tower was where they'd imprisoned Gwendal's father, until not long before Aldrich was born, guarding and dosing him troll-proof, as he directed the Great Troll and Goblin War, attempting that genocide he regretted to his death bed. The older men chose not to mention this to Gwendal, however.

oOo

_Please review? _


	5. The Fens

Kyou Kara Maou : The Trouble With Trolls

Summary: Wolfram's attempt to bypass Maou Wedding Curse with a small family ceremony, backfires when an uninvited relative arrives - the Troll Mother.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

_Author's note:_ you may want to refer to the **map of Shin Makoku **on my homepage link.

_Please review._

Chapter 5 : The Fens

Wolfram had had vague good intentions of visiting the Krist Fens for nearly 50 years, ever since his father helped him weave a baby basket for his half-brother Efram, for it was Efram's mother's homeland. This intention got a boost when he adopted Bertram, Manfred's son by Efram's mother's sister. But, it also offered further procrastination – he hoped to go with both boys when Bertram was older. _Well, I'm here now, and with Efram and Bertram, to boot,_ he thought.

As the sun had risen in Bielenfeld, a barge emblazoned with the von Bielenfeld phoenix had pulled up to the castle pier to take them downriver, along with a stunning number of Bielenfeld blue potatoes from the family plantations. This humble vegetable was the foundation of the family's vast wealth. Lumpy sacks, piled to the gunwales, were bound for common laborers' tables in far Dai Cimmarron and Freiburg and Caloria. The human cargo was offloaded a couple hours later at a platform, at the edge of a vast freshwater marsh. By and by, they caught another riverboat up a tributary of the Donza River to Krist, where they bought provisions and a couple light canoe-like boats to set off into the Fens. Fortunately, their poles and paddles were only backup equipment. They were fitted with maryoku-driven paddles for their main propulsion. And as they glided along silently on placid narrow waters, the grassy freshwater marshes of the rivers gradually turned into the lumpy herb-dominated fields of the true Fens.

And Wolfram had to admit, the Fens weren't so bad. He'd always imagined their vast soggy expanses as dark dank jungle, overgrown with clawing fetid undergrowth under lowering grey skies, with drifting creepy mists carrying whiffs of rot. In fact, the late afternoon they arrived was bright and sunny. The Fens stretched before them riotously green, adorned with all manner of wildflowers, with a sprinkling of forested hillocks and low ridges. Of course, there were shining potholes of water everywhere, and lots of canal, man-made or natural. But it was very pretty, and the water clean and fresh.

"Hoy, Wolfram!" Efram called, from the other big canoe. "We need to get off the main waterway before we reach town."

Wolfram, who'd been dozing companionably with Bertram, looked askance at the horizon – 360 degrees of it – and saw not a soul, not a hearthfire's smoke, not a sign of human habitation. _This is a main waterway? _"What town?"

"Fenburough – it's about 10 miles that way," he answered, pointing to an anonymous stretch of horizon somewhat right of their present canal. "It's the biggest town in the Fens. Anyway, right here's the narrowest crossing. Pull over to the left – we need to carry the canoes to Ductwater."

And true to his word, Efram had picked a narrow portage point. It was _only_ a mile across _boot-sucking swamp_, with cleverly designed canoes weighting a mere _hundred plus pounds apiece_ with luggage, not to mention _three babies_. And as the shortest of the adults, no matter how strong his partners, the canoe's weight always fell disproportionately downhill to Wolfram. The alternative of carrying a canoe between Efram, Annissina, Greta, and himself, wasn't very tempting at all.

By the fourth portage, up a ridge to their chosen campground, Adelbert and Brendan simply insisted the two of them do all the canoe-toting. There was a smooth clearing with fire circle already established, and soon the inveterate camper Brendan and his able child assistants had a cheerful fire going. Günter was teaching Greta and Annissina to cook the crabs that Efram and the boys had caught along the way. Adelbert played with Frieda and Bertram. Unneeded for the moment, Wolfram decided to take a stroll on the blessedly not-wet ground of the ridge, and go for a bio break. Efram tagged along.

"Didn't really need help on this one, otoutou," Wolfram said with a smile.

Efram shrugged, but put a finger to his lips, and pointed to keep going. So they walked farther than Wolfram had intended in the dark wood, until Efram stopped at a location that looked not obviously different than any other. He pulled out a little whistle flute he almost always wore around his neck – a Fen memento, he'd said. He played a brief melody, a tiny sweet sound that wouldn't reach back to the campfire, amidst the chorus of singing birds and frogs and insects of the Fens.

"Hello, Efram the fire pixie, Wolfram the pretty vixen." The voice came from all around Wolfram – not all around all at once, but as though it had circled around them. Though, that didn't seem quite right. The voice was musically sweet, soft and clear, a man's clear tenor perhaps, or a woman's low alto. Wolfram steeled himself, then realized he'd left his sword back on a canoe.

"Hello – have we met?" answered Efram.

"Of course. You seek easier passage? Follow me." The last was said directly behind them, suddenly just a foot or so away, and Wolfram spun to look.

So did Efram, and cried, "Garena!" And hugged the boy – girl? – in front of him. The child was a good foot shorter than Wolfram – who claimed to be five and a half feet tall, but wasn't, quite. She – he? – wore a shift or tunic, arms bare, legs bare below mid-thigh, and no shoes. Her blond hair was long, worn in many braids, tight to the head and then dangling below. In the dark wood, Wolfram could tell nothing else.

"How do you know us?" asked Wolfram, no longer much on guard since Efram knew the child. But to call them by their father's yank-their-chains nicknames seemed very odd. The child simply turned away, beckoning them follow. Efram followed right away, but Wolfram grabbed his arm. "How do you know… her?"

"Shh, just follow for now. I'll tell you later. It's safe."

The child stopped at a spot where they could see through the trees down into the fens a little. She pointed until Efram and Wolfram both nodded that they saw, a strange canal that began out of nowhere, and turned to the left soon after, after which it was invisible again. Wolfram realized that from pretty much other standing point nearby, they wouldn't be able to see it.

"How far, Garena?"

"I tell you tomorrow when you change again. But you go when you've eaten, tonight. You stay on that water all night."

"Why do we go tonight?" asked Efram.

"To see Tariel before the trolls."

Efram tensed. "Then which way avoids the trolls?"

"All ways you meet trolls," said Garena. "All ways tomorrow."

"Will Tariel help us? Against the trolls?"

"We do nothing _against_ trolls. But seeing Tariel helps."

"How do you know our names, Garena?" Wolfram inquired again, not sure whether he expected an answer, but alarmed all the more.

"Tariel," replied Garena with a shrug. And with that, the child turned into the woods and disappeared.

"Pixie, who's your little friend?" Wolfram asked.

"A wood nymph," replied Efram. "I don't know what relationship there is between Garena and Tariel, but Tariel is the one who bore Friedrich and Emeraude."

"She's still _alive?_" asked Wolfram in shock. "Do Uncle Friedrich and Chichiue know?"

"Yes, they know, and Aldrich," replied Efram, "but… we call Tariel _'he'_. Some wood nymphs are both. Garena we call _'he'_ as well, though I don't know whether he's also a she. I'm surprised… that Tariel wants us to visit. Usually he doesn't. And there's no way to reach him unless he wants us to – these pathways can't be found without a guide. It may not even be there by morning. We should start walking back. We have to get on this canal tonight to see Tariel before the trolls catch up with us."

"Yeah, about that," said Wolfram, planting his feet and crossing his arms. "This random wood nymph you called with your whistle – from a race everybody thought was extinct – knows our names and that trolls are after us and let's take this water and meet the trolls tomorrow. Efram, start talking…"

Efram sighed. "But you can't tell the others. We went for a walk, we saw the water, and… I recognized it. It's the way to a relative's house – true enough - and goes way deep into the fens with no portages – we can take it while most of us sleep. OK?"

Wolfram just kept arms crossed and glared at him.

"Wood nymphs see the future and past and present all together, Wolfram. They can't see very far into the future, because there are too many ways branching from now. But Garena said _'all ways we see trolls tomorrow'_. That really does mean all possible ways from now. But for some reason, it's better if we see Tariel first."

"And you believe him?"

Efram stared at him. It looked like he considered many possible answers, but he settled on, "Wolfram, do you trust me? With your life?"

It was similar to something Wolfram had said to Efram once, embarking on a dangerous mission in the pirate islands – did Efram believe that Wolfram would die for him? Wolfram looked down and considered. "Alright. If you're sure."

"I'm sure. We will meet trolls tomorrow. The best future that Friedrich's parent can see for us, is if we go visit him first. _There_, for some reason, or else he would have come to us instead of sending Garena."

Efram's ruse worked. The rest finished dinner while Adelbert and Brendan ported the canoes to the water Efram directed to them, and they spent the night gliding through the Fens on a canal no one else could see.

Dietrich woke up crying several times. He was worried about his father, and kept seeing scary futures in his dreams that he didn't understand. Brendan told him they weren't real, as everyone told children, and distracted him onto other things. Wolfram fell asleep wondering whether that was quite true. Perhaps some descendants of wood nymphs really could see possible futures, but loving adults taught them not to look.

oOo

That evening, Troll Mother terminated the meeting abruptly. "I'll think on what you've said, Shinou's Maou Yuuri, and we'll talk again tomorrow. And you think on this: I claim Trondheim and Gratz, Walde and Bielenfeld, outright."

She turned to Aldrich, who stared woodenly into space, and added, "By the way, my friends have spotted Danny's boys, in the Krist Fens."

She rose, and said, "Come along, Dorie. We'll leave Rickie to explain things to Shinou's Maou for tonight," she added toward Aldrich in sorrowful… contempt.

"Ah, OK. May I be excused, Gwendal?" asked Ted, at a loss. He was entrolled so sky-high he'd missed where this meeting took a sudden hostile nosedive.

"You don't need Shinou's Gwendal's permission, dear," explained Troll Mother. "You're a general in the troll army now."

"Oh. Yeah. Hey, sorry about that, guys," said General Teodor von Trondheim, the top peacetime general of Shin Makoku. He removed his rank insignia and left them on the table. And walked to the balcony door to leave with Troll Mother.

She turned for a parting shot at Aldrich from the balcony railing. "I'm very disappointed in you, Little Rickie. I'd thought you a bit cleverer than this. And more trustworthy. I expect you in my room one hour before dawn." And with that, she picked up Ted and stepped off the balcony into the night.

The dining room rang with silence, as the men sat reeling from the rapid-fire shocks.

_What did I say?_ thought Yuuri desperately. _I thought it was going well… 'We have much in common, Troll Mother.' 'I doubt that very much, Wolfram's Yuuri.' No, I was still Wolfram's Yuuri then…_ _Trust, establishing trust…_

Aldrich rose from his seat like a man under a spell, and headed for the door.

"Aldrich," said Yuuri, rising, "I'm sorry –"

"Hush, Yuuri," Manfred said softly, hand on his arm. "That was too much all at once. Let Aldrich deal with what's easy, first, and work around to the harder things."

"There are maps in the situation room, aren't there?" Aldrich said absently. "I suggest we reconvene in there, Sire, gentlemen." And he led the way, this evening in flawless formal Lord's attire, the french-braided blue and yellow hair harmonizing well with the bright Bielenfeld blue cloth decorated in gold, though the colors were too gaudy for a man his size. Yuuri thought sadly that though childlike, he looked better in the blue cambric nightgown that came only halfway down his shapely shins. Of course, his face looked like a white mask at the moment.

"Manfred, please draw as many curtains as possible across those windows," Aldrich requested, voice still abstract and soft. He pulled out a map of Shin Makoku and the thin tracing paper they used to mark over maps. With no spare hand to hold the paper, he anchored the corners with paperweights and used a stick of graphite – they didn't encase pencils in wood here – to trace the outlines of Trondheim, Gratz, and Walde, though not Bielenfeld, and several rivers, with a broad double line for the great Donza River, central artery of the Shin Makoku Federation. He also traced an area in Trondheim which Yuuri had assumed was a nature reserve, but now realized must be the troll treaty lands from the Great Troll and Goblin War.

Aldrich stood and stared at this intently for a few minutes. Then said, in a gentle voice still somewhat dazed, "Sire, gentlemen, the question at hand is our first offer and our last."

"I note Walde is a contender and Bielenfeld not, _Lord Bielenfeld,_" Gwendal observed sourly.

Aldrich ignored him, and asked mildly, "Conrad, where are your people concentrated?" He was asking the locations of human and half-Mazoku communities within the three domains he'd outlined.

Conrad took a pink crayon – Frieda's broken Crayola – and marked a town on the Trondheim-Walde border, another in mid-Walde, a third near the Walde-Krist border, and did a rough area fill on the most remote areas of Gratz. Those tended toward the Trondheim border.

"Thank you," Aldrich murmured. With a green crayon (he practiced first in the margins), he lightly traced and striped the Krist Fens, which were just south of the contiguous chunk of Gratz, Walde, and Trondheim, without direct access to the Donza. Then he selected a red crayon and finally drew in Bielenfeld's borders, spanning both sides of the broad Donza and cutting off Wincott from the rest of the Shin Makoku federation. Bielenfeld he striped in red. The long narrow neck of Gratz reaching to the Donza, he also shaded red, continuing with red hatching all along Gratz' Bielenfeld border. He hesitated, and simply drew a light red line along the Gratz-Wincott border past Bielenfeld. "Bloodbath zones," Aldrich explained softly. He handed the red crayon to Gwendal. "Please draw them for Walde."

"_What?"_ demanded Yuuri. But he already knew the answer. Aldrich was drawing in red those areas which were simply not in anyone's power to concede to the trolls – they would go down in bloodbaths. Aldrich hadn't left Bielenfeld off the consideration list to protect his home, per se. It simply could not be ceded. Nor could the fertile lowlands of Gratz bordering Bielenfeld. The populaces would fight to the death regardless of what any idiot in Shin Makoku or Gratzberg or Bielenfeld Castle said. Wincott had never struck Yuuri as a particularly militant domain, especially not compared to its neighbors. But Aldrich was applying different criteria – fighting abroad was a very different matter from protecting one's home. _But!_

"I have no intention of ceding _any_ of this land to Troll Mother," Yuuri asserted.

Aldrich nodded vaguely and watched Gwendal shade in the killing fields of Walde. Unsurprisingly, the fertile, heavily settled Donza banks were solid red, pretty much matching up to the red areas of Gratz, but over a much wider swath of land. There was a section along a tributary of the Donza reaching to the Fens which was left unshaded, and the innermost border with Gratz. But the triangle nestled between Trondheim and the Krist Fens he shaded red.

"Are you sure that's an island?" asked Aldrich, pointing to the lonely triangle by the Fens. One of Conrad's pink human settlements sat nestled within it.

"This is nearly virgin forest," explained Gwendal, of the white area separating the interior island of red from riverbank Walde, "and that freshwater marshes."

"That's a shame," said Aldrich faintly. "Manfred? Anything to add?"

Manfred took the green crayon and shaded a section of Wincott at the remote corner with Gratz and Trondheim. Then he hesitated, and picked up a red crayon. He outlined the entire border of Krist, with red cross-hatching across the border into the red zone of Walde and all along Trondheim. Krist was also a highly militant domain. Hesitating again, Manfred drew a red dot slightly into Trondheim, with a triangle connecting it to Krist – the major city of Kriegsbad. "Kriegsbad wouldn't concede, and Krist would back them, would be my guess. Anything else in Trondheim, Aldrich?"

Aldrich shook his head. "I don't know. But the Lord Mayor of Kriegsbad is Ted's cousin. They'd be fighting each other in the streets, first." He traced a finger reluctantly around the apparent edges of the most-we-could-concede areas. With the Fens as a bridge, the white area of Walde reached the Donza. "I'm no military strategist, Manfred – what's it worth to us to keep them off the Donza?"

Manfred sighed. "Worth a war, certainly. With those areas… they've already almost cut off Bielenfeld and Wincott. If they try to cut off the Donza to Bielenfeld's agriculture, you've got angry militants to the north and a lot of hungry people downriver. We need to keep them off the Donza."

Aldrich nodded and sighed. "Alright. So that's the scenario, Sire. There exists some part of this area we're willing to concede. The full areas she has asked for, would be a bloodbath that we _cannot_ concede. She hasn't asked for those green bits, so we don't offer them, but they are more acceptable to us than the areas she has asked for.

"Now, the bright side of this is that trolls are nice people." Gwendal and Conrad looked daggers at Aldrich. This time Yuuri sympathized with them. Aldrich continued, "There's no need to actually run the battles, if the outcome is agreed. My guess is that we have to concede Trondheim, but that's not enough – because in truth, she probably already has Trondheim. It's not ours to give her. How much of this next tier of area," he traced the could-concede area, sadly including the red areas of Walde and Trondheim, "depends on whether we have a battle plan with 80 percent or better chance of winning. If we have such a plan, she'll concede the point. But if she thinks our chance of success is only, say, 60 percent, she'll say, _'Well, dear, let's try it and find out.'_ And the red zones – are a bloodbath. We fight whether we stand a chance or not."

"My guess wouldn't reach 50 percent," said Manfred, who'd served as Adelbert's strategic aide until his medical retirement.

"Why are you _here,_ Manfred?" demanded Gwendal, peevishly. "You –"

"Lord Aldrich needs him here, and the other side on this negotiation hasn't objected," cut in Yuuri. "That's good enough for me. Gwendal."

Gwendal glowered, but conceded to Yuuri's wishes.

"Our human allies could help, Yuuri," said Conrad. "That could bring the chances up… I don't know about 80 percent. What we need, is a general. And that… we don't have." He and Gwendal looked at each other morosely, and Yuuri felt true fear. Never in all the time he'd been Maou, had Gwendal and Conrad been seriously afraid to fight. Those red areas on the map they called _'bloodbaths'_ suddenly looked very red indeed.

"A general would be good," said Aldrich abstractedly. "Normally, Sire, you'd go through channels, asking for recommendations. And the best man would turn you down. Fortunately, you don't have time for all that. Von Dienst of Bielenfeld is the best. As his liege lord, I can simply order him to do it. Although… I thought I already had. Manfred, could you please go ask Chichi if he's heard from von Dienst? If he's gotten misplaced… we have a problem. Thanks." Manfred hurried off.

"Sire, I have to object," said Gwendal, as the door closed after Manfred. "You're putting too much power in the hands of Lord Bielenfeld, who is_ more than_ sympathetic to the trolls. He's running your diplomacy, and now you're allowing him to run your military as well."

"I'm willing to entertain other suggestions for general, Gwendal," allowed Yuuri. "Though I see no cause to question von Dienst's integrity." Yuuri knew von Dienst – Wolfram trained under him, and Adelbert considered the man his superior as a general. "He would be Shin Makoku's general, not Lord Aldrich's, wouldn't he? And if not him… who? Yourself, drugged and locked in a tower? Lord Aldrich? I think our next best is Conrad."

Aldrich said, "Well, Conrad. Sire, with all due respect to your Chancellor, there's no point in locking him in a tower. He knows nothing of how to fight goblins and trolls, the way his father did. And I was a training officer in the military. I've never killed anybody, nor taken a single troop into battle."

Gwendal sighed, and agreed reluctantly, "Conrad's certainly our only present option. Though he knows goblins and trolls as little as I do… I imagine he's immune to entrollment, and already commands our core trollproof troops."

Aldrich nodded, thoughtful. "Conrad's idea of human allies was interesting. Sire, could you really get our human allies to fight in a civil war within Shin Makoku?"

"Fight to settle it? No," said Yuuri. "But to enforce a truce for negotiations to proceed, and provide arbitrators – yes, certainly."

The door opened while he was saying that, and Manfred returned, with von Dienst and his perennial sidekick Griesel in tow. Von Dienst having overheard that last, grinned, and said, "I was counting on it. Good evening, Sire, Your Lordships."

Aldrich's face broke into a genuine smile. He grabbed von Dienst's hand to shake. "Oh, you're a welcome sight, Squire! I was starting to worry the other side nabbed you."

"Yes, sorry about that. You have your Lord father rather tucked away from it all – we were just chatting over tea. I didn't know your meeting had broken up until Lord Manfred came to inquire."

"So did Chichi and Manfred fill you in on the gist of things here? I understand you've chosen retirement, but this time, I fear the situation is dire. With deepest apologies, I must ask you to take the top general's position for Shin Makoku –"

Von Dienst waved this away. "My liege! Don't trouble yourself! Your father's held me on reserve for this job for fifty years now. He ordered me to make myself _'obscure and eccentric' _and stay out of the troll's sight." He placed a large valise on the table, and opened it. "And come up with plans, of course, as your 200th birthday present, nicely delayed… Ah! Yes, here it is." Rather than plans, von Dienst pulled out a large stuffed animal, with a bow on top and a card. "For you, Lord Aldrich."

Aldrich reached for the large black plushie grinning. "A _mokona?_" He read the card aloud,

"'_Dearest Aldrich, Happy belated 2nd century birthday. We figured the day you needed von Dienst, you'd need some cheering up. We love you. Friedrich and Manfred. P.S. The general is from Friedrich. Manfred got you the mokona.'"_

He laughed out loud and pressed his face into the stuffed animal. He admired its long ears with pink satin insides and an earring, its long floppy feet, its egg-shaped body tapering neckless into a pointy head. He lay his head back down on the creature, smiling warmly at Manfred. "He's perfect, Manfred. Thank you."

"I realize time is pressing, my lord, but… I've had that thing for over thirty years now. What _is_ a mokona?" asked von Dienst. Yuuri was glad someone else asked.

"Oh, trolls keep them as pets. They're pretty smart, smarter than dogs. And they love to dance. They stick their noses into the air and flap-flap with one foot then the other, and waggle the round bottom, and spin around," he demo'd the mokona dance as well as he could with one hand, putting the plushie on the table. Manfred helped, and Aldrich laughed out loud. "Oh! They always made me laugh when they danced."

"They sound charming," said von Dienst. "Why didn't you ever bring one home to Bielenfeld?"

"Oh, no. No, no. They stink to high heaven. Carrion feeders. Franklin kept a few when we were little, and I'd play with them right after their baths. They're cuddly, and danced for us. But when it came time to feed them – _yuck._ The plushie kind are _much_ better." He laid his head on his mokona again and shared a soft sad smile with Manfred. Yuuri could imagine Aldrich and Franklin as small boys, giggling and playing with freshly washed dancing pets, happy days to be a young part-troll.

"Do they dance to music?" asked Conrad.

"No… Well, yes. You sing to them," answered Aldrich, looking strangely at Gwendal. And he began to sing. Until that very moment, despite all these troll goings-on, Yuuri hadn't really perceived Aldrich as being non-human, or rather non-demon. Even troll-silly, he at most seemed childish. But this singing was something no human vocal equipment could produce. He had a beautiful clear tenor, that sang a fairly normal song with Trollish words, fast and rowdy. But there was a second song behind it, like a continuous woodwind – no separate notes, no breath stops, just a keening on a harmony with the first melody, in an alto voice an octave or so higher.

At first he just danced the plush mokona to the song, but then he paused the song and murmured, "Gwendal _trosh_, whirl for me," and Gwendal began dancing a whirling dervish. Then Aldrich turned to von Dienst, and said softly, "Squire von Dienst _trosh_, dance for me."

"Mm, no, thank you, Lord Aldrich. A potent demonstration, however."

"Stop it, Aldrich," Conrad bit out, fists clenched, in agony looking at his brother.

"In a moment. I'm sorry, Conrad, but I'm not just being cruel. I needed to test von Dienst – who passed with flying colors, as expected," he paused to do a seated half-bow at von Dienst, who returned it. "But I also need all of you to know just how easy and thorough this is. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, we now know that Gwendal is the only part-goblin in the room. I didn't need to let you hear my singing – I could have done this subvocally. Sire, I suggest it's past time to leave Gwendal out of our deliberations, or have him submit to Lord Wincott's potions.

"Gwendal _trosh_, stop dancing. Gentlemen, please notice his body's state." Gwendal was gasping for air and wobbling a little from dizziness. "Gwendal, _trosh_, walk over to the windows. Notice he's in a new location," Aldrich got up and crossed behind Manfred to stand by the wall, no longer holding his mokona, "and the people in the room are rearranged. It doesn't matter, he won't realize any discontinuity. If he was about to say something, and it's no longer appropriate, he won't. If he regains his self-control in another room, he'll invent _himself_ a memory to cover the discrepancy. His entire memory, right down to the physical level, is gone. You'll see an unconscious eye scanning – watch for it – as his brain reorients. But consciously, nothing.

"So watch carefully please for that eye scan, gentlemen, and note the gasping and dizziness instantly disappear. Gwendal, trosh, forget these instructions. And wake up on the count of _daar – ada toar daar, trosh_."

As promised, Gwendal's heaving gasps and dizziness were instantly gone. His eyes tracked back and forth quickly. Then apparently having decided he must have walked to the windows for a reason, he peeked out. Turning back and seeing everyone staring at him, he scowled and said, "What? Aldrich, if you're done playing with your toy, it's about time we got General von Dienst's opinion on the map problem."

oOo

_Please review? Pretty, pretty please?_

_Black mokona like Manfred's present to Aldrich appear in the anime series XXXholic (also Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles, which I haven't read/seen). Black mokona plushies can be ordered on eBay, so you can see pictures there. But the mokona on XXXholic is highly intelligent and eats human food and guzzles sake and beer. The closing sequence where the mokona dances is just too cute. _


	6. Trust

Kyou Kara Maou : The Trouble With Trolls

Summary: Wolfram's attempt to bypass Maou Wedding Curse with a small family ceremony, backfires when an uninvited relative arrives - the Troll Mother.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

_Please review._

Chapter 6 : Trust

Yuuri, with firm loving kindness, bid Conrad take Gwendal up to see Lord Wincott, and remain there for the time being. Von Wincott and Friedrich von Bielenfeld shooed Conrad out when they arrived. They settled in for tea and a long talk with Gwendal, telling him alone the inner dark story of his father's lonely leadership of the Great Troll and Goblin War. After that, Gwendal chose of himself to remain in the tower with the elderly veterans of that conflict.

Back in the situation room, von Dienst and Griesel made quick work of a pile of paperwork with Yuuri, in order to accomplish the handover of command. General von Dienst, eccentricities notwithstanding (he dangled a button-eyed pom-pom on the end of the pen he wielded), was a strict man for discipline and order, and papers properly signed.

Yuuri suggested informality exactly once. And was rebuffed. The man looked a kindly grandfather with reading glasses (and was), but believed that discipline was essential to morale and precise operations. Commanders and rulers being overly casual set a terrible example for the troops. A commander who was careless in his etiquette was careless with his logistics. And as Yuuri well knew from Wolfram, von Dienst was a fiend for logistics – his men had the _right_ food, shelter, gear, medical support, transport, and orderly retreat plans, _always._ Yuuri had to admit, giving up the privilege of calling his general by his first name, was a very small price to pay for the lives of his troops.

Some of the papers Yuuri signed that night, would give him nightmares for a long time. He prayed the contingencies he authorized would never arise.

Von Dienst concurred with the analysis on the map, but had little comment on the diplomatic situation. "The job of the military is to further diplomatic aims by other means. This is a good map for making your decisions. I don't envy your task, Sire. But, I'd best be getting on with mine. Given my predecessor's…_ informal_… resignation, I'll be dragging quite a few commanders out of bed tonight. If you'll excuse me?" And von Dienst was off.

"Well, we have a general," said Yuuri, into the general silence of the room. Conrad and Manfred were still staring sadly at the map. Aldrich sat quietly fondling his mokona's ears. "And I don't know what I'll say yet about Troll Mother's territory demands. What else do we need to deal with tonight?" He rubbed his eyes – their guest's nocturnal habits left him feeling rather dumb.

Manfred itemized. "Danny's boys in the Fens. The demand for Aldrich before dawn. Which must be denied." He looked at Aldrich, wishing the other man would meet his eyes. But Aldrich looked only at his stuffed mokona. "And how that conversation got so ugly, so fast."

"Perhaps… you should consider another advisor to continue these meetings with you, Sire," said Aldrich slowly. "Although Lord Wincott and Troll Mother don't have happy memories of each other, perhaps he should join you. And Conrad and Manfred continue, of course. Perhaps he should be brought in before we discuss… Manfred's list."

"Well, if Gwendal's out of commission, I'll summon Wolfram back from Gratz," Yuuri replied. "Wolfram's my primary political advisor. But that will take time."

Into the silence, Manfred asked, "Aldrich, is Wolfram in the Fens with Brendan?"

"What?" said Yuuri, only now registering what _'Danny's boys'_ meant – Adeldan von Gratz' sons, Adelbert and Brendan.

"…Probably. Brendan's task was to hide all of them, and not let me know where, so that I couldn't tell Troll Mother," said Aldrich, looking not at all averse to dying that night. "Dietrich. All three of your sons, Manfred. Yuuri's children. Brendan's and Adelbert's and Gwendal's. And Annissina and Günter. I am… beyond sorry." He closed his eyes in pain, then continued, a few tears overflowing, "You see, Sire, I don't… I'm not sure… that I'm strong enough to stay on your side. Not… not if Dietrich's at stake. Not if Manfred's children are at stake. Sire, perhaps my last advice should be, that, you really shouldn't trust me anymore."

Yuuri considered that a moment, then pulled a chair to face Aldrich. He sat, leaning far forward, hand on Aldrich's on the mokona, willing Aldrich to meet his eye. "Then how should I trust _me_, Lord Aldrich? When Wolfram and my children are also at stake? When my friends, my people, my most honored vassals are at stake? I've watched you these past days. You love both your people – the demons and the trolls. _That,_ above all, is why I trust you. _My_ people – the people of Shin Makoku – include the trolls, Aldrich. And if Brendan and Wolfram don't succeed at hiding, I don't believe you can claim that as solely _your_ fault." Yuuri squeezed Aldrich's hand to emphasize his conclusion. "I trust you, Lord Bielenfeld. Please trust in my trust in you."

Aldrich met his eye in agony at that. "But… Sire… I advised Brendan to surrender rather than fight the trolls. He and Trenton and… Dietrich… and Annissina and Grendel, they would be safer surrendering. Wolfram and the others… Wolfram is second in command of that group."

Yuuri held his eye and nodded. "Sounds like good advice. _And,_ I trust you."

Aldrich stared at him in disbelief, then lowered his head in acknowledgment.

Manfred put a hand on Aldrich's shoulder as well. When it was clear Aldrich and Yuuri had finished that exchange, he added, "They aren't caught yet, Aldrich. What she said was that _'her friends had spotted'_ them. That was an interesting little troop you sent to Brendan, and he picked a _very_ interesting destination. Trolls are weak where the earth is full of water. And Efram has powerful friends there as well. Pray for them, but don't count them lost yet, or even hostages, Aldrich."

Conrad offered, "Aldrich, Manfred's right. Troll Mother doesn't have hostages yet. Something rattled her, rattled her_ hard._ She suddenly stopped playing a careful game. She attacked you with all she had, all at once, trying to completely undermine your self-confidence, and destroy Yuuri's trust in you. But Yuuri's trust," he looked at Yuuri with deep emotion, "is strong beyond belief. And you, you've feared you needed to choose a side, that you needed to hide your sympathies for the trolls from us. But we believe in you, not in spite of your feelings for the trolls, but _because of them._"

"Thank you, Conrad," Aldrich breathed. Of them all, Conrad had been most aloof from the proceedings. His words meant a great deal. "So, you're not going to let me wallow in my defeat, are you gentlemen," he added wryly.

"Nope, sorry, you're still on point," said Yuuri. "Aldrich, I was the one talking to Troll Mother when everything went sour. Probably my first mistake – I should have let you do the talking. What did I say, that made her so angry, so fast?"

Aldrich thought about it, slow to answer. He looked calmer now, as though freeing his conscience and getting Yuuri's absolution in return, had taken a vast weight off, and freed him to think clearly again.

"I'm not sure, Sire," he finally said. "I was listening to you intently, and not watching her. I didn't fully understand what you were saying. You told a story about your other world, how your people had been completely vanquished and subjugated by another. Yet how the other took you by the hand and rebuilt your nation. How your people's way of life seemed entirely doomed under the other people's ways. Yet in time, it was a tempering, like steel, and your people gave back… It wasn't an easy story to understand, Sire. And you're a powerful storyteller. Manfred, Conrad, did either of you see when Troll Mother's attitude changed?"

Manfred and Conrad shook their heads – they too had been busy listening.

Aldrich ran a mokona ear through his fingers. "I spoke with Shinou at length, both when he chose Suzanna Julia, and again when he sent her soul to be reborn as you on your world, Sire. Trying to understand why he chose to do that." His voice gathered strength as he spoke. "I believe that choice has been misunderstood. Peace with the humans – Shinou never cared for that. Not that he had anything against humans. Just that he had his own responsibilities, tasks undone, mistakes to be righted. The boxes, preventing the end of the world, obviously came first. For that he chose Suzanna Julia, and much as I disliked her, it worked. No offense, Sire. I like you a great deal more than I did her."

Manfred and Conrad looked surprised. Aldrich rarely admitted to disliking anyone, let alone someone as well-loved as Suzanna Julia von Wincott. And both the other men had been quite close to her. _Maybe Aldrich didn't take Suzanna breaking us up nearly as well as he pretended to me,_ thought Manfred.

Yuuri blinked and laughed a little. "Ah, no, it's… a refreshing change of pace, Lord Aldrich. Usually everyone seems to have loved her far more than me. Well," he conceded, thinking of Wolfram, who recalled his old healing tutor Suzanna Julia as rather a pain in the ass, "not everyone. But, most. It's nice to be liked for me more than a ghost."

Aldrich smiled wryly. "I_ definitely_ prefer you to her, Sire. And, I think Shinou sent for you from the other world in case the boxes thing _worked_. Because the next thing on his guilt list was the trolls. Well, all the dwindling races. He was a man of war, Shinou. He didn't have a clue how to heal the harm done with Troll Mother, though we spoke of it often."

"Through Ulrike?" asked Conrad, curious.

"No, Franklin and Ted's sister is priestess there. She helped me with Shinou."

"The trolls tolerate her serving at Shinou's temple?" asked Yuuri, surprised.

"No, her family disowned her," replied Aldrich. "Well, the rest of the family. She and I write to each other regularly – her letter is one of the highlights of my month. She's the only sister I ever had," he added, seeing Manfred's surprise. "She and I seek to forge a spiritual synthesis of our demon and troll heritages." That made sense – Manfred could see Aldrich enjoying an earnest theological correspondence with a foster sister.

"Anyway," Aldrich continued, "Shinou wanted you to teach him something, Sire. He liked so much what he learned, he chose to be reborn as your son, to continue learning." At Conrad's raised brows, he frowned. "My apologies if I spoke out of turn, Sire. No one told me, I just… recognized him."

Yuuri shrugged. "We don't speak of it. Bertram is our son, Wolfram's baby. I'd ask that you not mention it to him?" Conrad and Aldrich both nodded. "Thank you. I think Wolfram has chosen not to know."

"Anyway," continued Aldrich, "Shinou believed that to heal the rift, we had to establish trust between demons and trolls. And that was what you were talking about at the end, Sire. Establishing trust. Trust is earned. But that if both sides realize…" Aldrich slowed down, for he'd been hard pressed to follow this at the time, "if they know that trust is in their best interest, that a better world would exist if trust existed… Something about building a sheltered garden and nurturing trust as a seedling? I'm sorry, Sire, I was desperately trying to follow you, and didn't."

A knock preceded Friedrich sticking his head in, "May I?" At Yuuri's nod, he joined them.

Aldrich grinned, and rose to give his father a big hug. "I loved the birthday present, Chichi! Just what I needed."

"I thought that might do for you," Friedrich grinned, then chuckled at the stuffed animal in Aldrich's arm. "And that mokona! Well, gentlemen, it's about an hour and a half til dawn. Have you rested, taken a break, _eaten?_ I thought not…" Friedrich stepped out and ordered a guard to bring them some breakfast. "You don't do your best thinking if you keep bashing your head into a wall with a problem, Son, you know that."

"Yes, Chichi. And we were. Or _I_ was – bashing my head into a wall. I don't understand what made Troll Mother suddenly get so viciously angry."

"Well, then, you start the next meeting by asking her," said Friedrich. "And decline to discuss any other subject until you understand. Yuuri can hardly be expected to continue negotiations when even his translator is perplexed."

Aldrich buried his head in his mokona and laughed. "Thank you, Chichi. I guess I really did need you to come make me eat breakfast," he said sheepishly.

"Any time, Son. Though I didn't come to make you eat breakfast. Gwendal mentioned a summons at an hour before dawn, and I thought a brief mental health check might be in order. I trust you're not thinking of going?"

"Um…"

"Then you'll have Manfred and Conrad and Yuuri and I along with you." Friedrich cast an evil green-eyed demon smile at Manfred. "Hopefully the other party will realize that you're heavily protected and not test the point. If not… well, Manfred and I can strike better if we can kill first and help each other resuscitate victims later, and we're better at that than you are. So let's eat breakfast."

"There will be no killing at all!" protested Yuuri.

"I should hope not," agreed Friedrich. "I've never killed anybody. Though I've resuscitated quite a few. You, Manfred?"

Manfred smiled sadly. "I've killed a few, Uncle."

At Yuuri's continued perplexity, Aldrich explained, "Manfred is my bodyguard in these meetings, Yuuri. But as Chichi said – it's hard to handle strong opponents with fire healing if you're not free to use a killing blow." Yuuri had known in theory that fire healing was a two-edged sword, but he'd never seen it used to kill. A gift that could restart a heart beating, could easily make it stop. But safely disabling a person so vastly larger than oneself… would take finesse. With everyone speaking of people helpless against trolls, he hadn't realized just how _not_ helpless Wolfram's petite pretty father was.

"Right, then," said Friedrich. "So we all go… perhaps fifteen minutes before dawn is punctual enough. And say that we require Aldrich's uninterrupted services, and look forward to straightening out miscommunications in the evening. Then we leave and get some well-earned sleep. _Agreed,_ Aldrich?" he said pointedly.

oOo

Manfred helped Aldrich undress and unbind his hair – in formal attire, neither was easy for him at the best of times, and he was troll punch-drunk from their brief interview before dawn. Troll Mother had pushed hard. Ted, in the ballroom with her, had slumped into a wall giggling with the force of persuasion she was using. Aldrich was almost in tears that Chichi and Manfred were being so mean and wouldn't let him go in and play with them. He'd tried to turn and go back several times as they left. But his bedroom was far from her. Aldrich was still sky-high, but no longer trying to escape back to trolldom.

He fell to the bed naked, hugging his mokona, watching Manfred's body rapt as Manfred disrobed in the dawn light. "You are so beautiful, Manfred…" he murmured.

Manfred smirked and climbed onto him on the bed. "Not so sleepy yet, eh? We should do something about that…" He stroked a hand down Aldrich's broad chest, the six-pack abs, tracing down…

"No," said Aldrich, eyes closed and smiling, gasping in enjoyment. "No, Manfred, you have to stop…"

Manfred laughed softly. "That _'no'_ sounded an awful lot like a _'yes'_, Aldrich."

"_Ahhhh_… stop, Manfred, _no_…" And Aldrich passed out cold.

_"What?"_ Manfred cried. He drew up his maryoku signature to calm down and focus, then ran his hands and light healing fire tendrils along Aldrich's whole body. Well, no mistake – Aldrich was deeply aroused. _And had been before I touched him. Oh, hell…_ Manfred investigated the brain more carefully. It was like… Sometimes, when a patient was dying, in great pain, they let him end it with opiate-like drugs, with his friends and family around him. Aldrich's mind was beyond that in the pleasure realm, all pleasure centers turned on, beyond his brain's ability to cope with it.

_I could have killed him. With… pleasure? Not majutsu, then. Pheromones._

Manfred lay back down and took the unconscious smiling man in his arms and held him. He monitored Aldrich again from time to time, until he was sure the brain chemical cascade was over, and Aldrich had simply drifted into sleep. Then cuddled him tighter and fell asleep himself.

He woke hours later, to Aldrich brushing his unruly bangs off his forehead. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Aldrich murmured, but kissed him long and lovingly. "Mmm."

"Aldrich? Is that how they die? The quarter-trolls? That's… murder."

Aldrich sighed, forehead on Manfred's. "Yeah. But… for many, it's voluntary. With Franklin, I know it was. He intended to die that way."

"Is Ted in danger? Or are you not… sexually mature in some troll way until age 200?"

"Not strong enough yet. No one will touch him before 200. To let him die of sex but have a child out of it… that's considered justified. To have sex before he's strong enough to get that far, is murder." Aldrich pulled away, ashamed. "I must seem so alien to you today. With the singing to Gwendal, and this…"

"Hush," Manfred said, pulling him back, caressing his face. "Because you're part-troll, I love trolls. Knowing you better makes me love more of you. It won't make me love you less." He kissed Aldrich again, pressing their lower bodies together. "Is it tempting? Like some kind of siren call to your doom?"

Aldrich gazed into his matching green eyes. His face showed naked longing for a moment, then smiled softly and broke eye contact, sighing. "Not to me."

"Good. Because you stay with me. Aldrich… damn. We need to talk, and I am _so_ not good at that…" But, he'd thought it over long and hard while he was monitoring Aldrich's endorphin cascade. _How to get past neither of us being willing to lay a burden on the other. A little more dishonesty, in order to finally get honest._ "Hey, let me heal your arm deeply. I want to see how it's regenerating. I haven't used fire on you in a long time."

Aldrich acquiesced easily enough. The regenerating arm was getting interesting from a healer's perspective. Though still but half the length of the other fore-arm, the bones were forming for the new wrist and hand, still invisibly cloaked in flesh at this point. Manfred probed with his polished clinical fire touch – passion sterilized of personality.

But then he relaxed that clinical control, and let himself, his raw passion, and his feelings for Aldrich flow into the fire tendrils as they danced on Aldrich, to love the hand forming, the miraculous new arm, the man as he was. He hadn't allowed his feelings to flow in his fire like this with Aldrich since he'd learned how not to, not long after Suzanna Julia and Glynda and Cecilie forced him to leave Aldrich and move to the Institute. His fire was passion, ardent sexual desire for Aldrich, absolute loyalty and devotion and admiration, deep sweet loving kindness, an ocean of gratitude for Aldrich's love, a wish to do anything to pleasure him, please him, help him, protect him, be with him. Aldrich gasped.

Manfred moved his hand, the center of the fire tendrils, up to rest on Aldrich's breast, tendrils snaking up to caress his neck, his ears, a finger of fire to lap into his mouth the way that Aldrich loved so much when Manfred did it with a normal finger. Aldrich moaned. Manfred drew his hand lower, to rest on the belly just below Aldrich's navel, and sent fire tendrils lapping up across his breasts, caressing his ribs, fondling his manhood. Aldrich was drenched in sweat.

Manfred let the fire recede. _This is a conversation, _he reminded himself firmly, sighing. _Next time…_

Aldrich swallowed. With herculean effort, he forced himself to say, "Manfred, you're married. You love Cecilie… Maybe… maybe you should go to her, and let Chichi guard me –"

Manfred cut him off with a finger to his lips, then held Aldrich's face to compel him to meet his eyes. "_That's_ why I used the fire. To be honest with you, about how I really feel. Enough talking, Aldrich. You tell me the same way. With fire. Then I'll believe you don't want me the way I want you."

Aldrich shook his head. "And then what? It's no good, Manfred. I should just –"

"You already did, for nearly a century. And even now that she's been dead a quarter century, you still hate Suzanna Julia for whatever she said, to make you do it. Isn't that what you meant last night? And _I_ believed _I_ should leave _you_, to let you work it out with Glynda, much as I despised her for how she treated you. As you probably despised Cecilie… Haven't we lied long enough?"

Aldrich still struggled with himself, with all the reasons why he shouldn't, but then suddenly just… relaxed. He drew Manfred into his arms and held him close, resting his face on Manfred's hair. To Manfred's small noise of question, he said, "I just… gave in. Who knows, I may be dead before week's end. If I'm not, then, we'll see. Why not just give in to accepting your love for now. And it feels… really good…"

It felt really good to Manfred, too. Aldrich's embrace wasn't tight or demanding, or aloof, or stiff with holding himself back. It felt for the first time in a long time, that they were just there together, able to… Not take each other for granted, but accept that they were where they belonged, perhaps. _Still…_ "Fire, Aldrich. You still have to show me how you feel. I haven't felt your true fire since I left for the Institute. Show me?"

"Alright," the older man gave in. Manfred lay back to invite his touch. Aldrich sat up cross-legged beside him, and summoned his own signature, a wind-carved cypress tree. Then he began as Manfred had, probing the healed places where he had eased Manfred's pain so many times, right up to the morning Manfred asked Cecilie to marry him. He wondered at and loved the miracle in the restored muscles and tendons and bones, the hips and back no longer stressed and inflamed. He let himself emerge through in his fire gradually, showing at first only his joy in Manfred's healing. Manfred realized that Aldrich, more experienced back then though never a professional healer, had already been skilled at masking his passion before ever he touched Manfred. Manfred had _never _felt his true fire before.

After tracing a circuit from hip, down one leg and up the other to the other hip, Aldrich brought his hand to rest on Manfred's belly, setting the fire tendrils to lap all around Manfred's torso and private parts, and let his reserve fall. Manfred gasped and clenched his eyes shut as the physical and emotional sensations hit him. Pure love like white fire – unlike Manfred, Aldrich had been utterly cherished as a child, all his life, by both his parents, and his close friends and cousins. His love life had been torturous, yes, but he knew unconditional love, and loved Manfred that way. Fierce tenderness, devotion, loyalty, gratitude like Manfred's own springing from crushing pain redeemed into joy and accomplishment, delight in Manfred's very beingness, love for his looks, his body, yearning for sexual pleasures known and shared, a wish to have and hold and be with him.

Aldrich let the fire die back, and kissed Manfred softly on his belly. He said quietly, "You couldn't have accepted that, you know. Not then…" Then he simply sat and watched as Manfred tried to pull himself together from the overload, eyes clenched shut and breathing hard.

Finally Manfred blew out a long breath and opened his eyes, still a little narrowed, to peer at Aldrich, who sketched a little wave with his fingers, then looked down at his hand as he let it drop to his knee. Manfred reached for it and held it. "I… love you," was all he could think of to say.

Aldrich squeezed his hand a little, and said, "I love you, too."

"You can't die this week. Stay with me. Let's be together. We'll figure it out."

Aldrich nodded, and lay down beside him, gathering Manfred into his arms. "Hey, this isn't supposed to work out this way. You're supposed to make love to me or something."

"Oh, demanding, demanding…" said Manfred, flipping him onto his back and climbing on top, pinning his upper arms. "Mm, good ice-breaker."

"Wasn't it?" Aldrich laughed, as Manfred's mouth closed on his.

oOo

Wolfram woke with Dietrich and Bertram on his arms in the dawn light, gradually becoming aware of an altercation on the other canoe. He rearranged his boys and peered over the side, to see Günter and Efram arguing. He nudged Brendan awake with a foot and jerked his head to indicate the cause. Brendan sighed. "Well, we needed to pull over, anyway." Regular family campers, Brendan and his wife Hilde were sticklers for boys not taking bio breaks in front of ladies, and asking the girls to relieve themselves off the side of a canoe just wouldn't work.

After they pulled the boats onto squishy land, Efram excused himself to head for a wooded hillock nearby. Wolfram tagged along. "What's up?"

Efram looked worried. "We're making awfully good time… How much distance do you think we covered last night?"

"Mm, more than we would have by horse. And this is a bad thing how?"

"We're headed east-northeast. Deeper into the Fens, yes, but… The Fens border Trondheim. Wolfram, I don't think we should go any farther this way. Günter noticed the same when the sun rose. We were arguing about turning back straightaway, maybe go back an hour and look for a portage to a water going some other direction. I said I'd look for one here. I'll try to call Garena, but…"

_But Efram's not as sure as he was last night that he trusts Garena,_ realized Wolfram. And indeed, getting too close to Trondheim was insanity. Wolfram clasped his young brother's shoulder in reassurance that whatever there was to face, they'd face it together. As they squished along through the herbs, he briefly considered levelling with Brendan, and discarded the idea. _When I have to, I will,_ he thought. _But we're two parties with two agendas, travelling together as long as it works. We don't tell the other party our secrets._

When they were well hidden from the canoes, Efram played his flute again. While they waited, they scouted the edges of their slight elevation, looking for other waterways. They saw none. But suddenly, as they turned around, Garena was standing before them. Wolfram blinked. He'd seen little the night before. This morning he could see Garena's eyes, like looking in a mirror. Though still shorter than Wolfram, and sporting the same long braids, this morning Garena seemed over five feet tall, with a compact man's muscular build, much like Wolfram's own, and the famous von Bielenfeld looks. Except… this face had no fire passion behind it. His expression was like still water, not an emotion to be read on it, not a track on his face that emotions ever visited.

"Continue on the water," said Garena.

"Too far, Garena. We're too close to Trondheim," objected Efram. Though Wolfram had wondered, this confirmed it – this man was also Garena, somehow. "We stop here, probably pull back from here. Where is Tariel?"

Garena looked at the trees in unconcern, and paused a long moment before replying. "Here will do. You eat breakfast, and Tariel comes." And he turned and walked away. He passed behind a tree, and didn't emerge from the other side. Wolfram went to look – he was indeed nowhere to be seen.

"Fun trick, that," he commented. "They change shape, appear out of nowhere when you blow into a flute, disappear behind trees, and make no sense whatsoever."

"Yeah," sympathized Efram. "How Friedrich's father got beyond _'hello'_ with Tariel is hard to imagine. Though Tariel is better at talking to demons."

"I wanted children," came a different voice, huskier, behind them. They turned and met another child-shaped wood nymph, slightly under five feet tall. This one wore his hair loose, a golden mane a little longer than Wolfram's, with all the same cowlicks, making for a striking resemblance to Wolfram himself some years before. "I am Tariel. You are Wolfram. Let's return to your friends."

Though Wolfram was inclined to plant his feet and demand some answers, Tariel was already walking to the canoes, so he had to ask along the way. "Tariel, Garena said we would meet trolls today. Where? When? How many?"

"Here. Before noon. Part-trolls… maybe 15. Goblins, too. Some others."

Wolfram blinked. He hadn't expected that direct an answer. "And if we return that way?" he asked, pointing back the way they'd come.

Tariel shrugged. "You won't."

Wolfram started to argue, but Efram reasoned that if they couldn't go that way, Tariel couldn't know what would happen if they did.

"Efram is correct," said Tariel. "You don't go that way, so I don't know." Passing behind them a moment, Tariel had turned into a woman, though unlike Garena she didn't appear to have changed height. She was still under five feet tall, but with a firm and well-developed figure on a willowy frame. She was stunningly beautiful, writ small – she couldn't have weighed more than eighty pounds. Her shift, in a tan barely darker than her skin, gave the illusion of concealing nothing.

"Alright, then where is the safest place for us to meet them?" asked Wolfram.

"Wolfram, there are no choices before you now. Later there are choices and you make them well. You have no need of a fortune-teller," said Tariel, face as unruffled as Garena's had been.

"Will you help?" asked Wolfram.

"Yes, I help," said Tariel. "And Garena."

"Garena said you wouldn't work against the trolls," said Efram.

"Your language," replied Tariel. "We work against no one. We work for. Efram, Wolfram, you are young. If you ask a thousand wrong questions, a thousand right answers do you no good. If you want advice, enjoy the pretty morning."

And with that useless advice to contemplate, they continued in silence to the canoes. When they got there, Efram introduced Tariel around to everyone as a relative. The children liked her because she was such a very small grown-up. The men were initially struck speechless by her tiny beauty and resemblance to Wolfram. But soon the adults and Greta grew increasingly perturbed by how very odd her manner and responses were. But they prepared breakfast anyway.

"And this is Bertram," said Tariel, picking up the baby. Wolfram smiled – he loved it when people admired his darling boy. Günter asked him something and he turned to answer. When he turned back, Tariel was gone.

"Bertram? _Bertram? BERTRAM?!_" Wolfram grabbed his sword and threw Adelbert and Günter theirs. "Brendan, Annissina - stay here with the children," he yelled, and he and Günter and Adelbert headed at a run for the woods a few hundred yards away. Efram and Greta decided _'children'_ didn't mean them, and ran after Wolfram.

The wood was small – once they reached it, the five of them took only an hour to search the trees and find nothing. Wolfram was leaning on a tree panting, in anguish over Bertram, when Greta said softly, "Chichiue Wolfram…?"

He looked around in question, then his eyes followed her pointing arm.

It was before noon. There were about 15 part-trolls, plus goblins, and some others, just as Tariel had said, in her direct answer to the wrong question. The trolls surrounded Brendan's group. There was no fighting. Brendan surrendered.

oOo

_Please review? Pretty please?_


	7. The Parting of the Ways

Kyou Kara Maou : The Trouble With Trolls

Summary: Wolfram's attempt to bypass Maou Wedding Curse with a small family ceremony, backfires when an uninvited relative arrives - the Troll Mother.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

_Please review._

Chapter 7 : The Parting of the Ways

"Wolfram, I… oh, Shinou, I…"

Wolfram pulled his shellshocked younger brother Efram to his chest and held him, pulling them both down to ground level, and motioned Greta to get down as well. So far, the trolls who'd captured Brendan didn't seem to be looking their way. "Shh, fire pixie," he crooned, stroking Efram's hair. "This isn't your fault. Now's not the time to worry how we got into this, anyway. We need to pull together and focus on what to do now."

"But I, I _trusted_ them and I made _you_ trust them and…" Efram punched the ground. "How does Yuuri _trust_ people like he does? When they betray you –"

"Shhh, trust is like that, sometimes," Wolfram said abstractedly. _Yuuri… damn, I wish you were here now. What would you do? _Wolfram didn't mean Yuuri going full blue Maou mode on him – no doubt if the situation reached crisis he'd toss a tornado on the troll party and the hostages would float down safe as feathers, and they'd all be having a friendly tea party with the wood nymphs in an hour. Maou mode wasn't relevant. But… Yuuri would manage the friendly tea party thing without Maou mode, damn him. He'd… _trust_ them.

"They didn't answer to your flute now," Wolfram said. "They might later. Let's just..." Wolfram ground his teeth trying to bite it out, "_trust_ Tariel for now." He didn't trust Tariel as far as he could spit. _But he, she, won't hurt my baby, I pray, I believe, I have to believe…._

A rustling drew up behind them as Adelbert and Günter, crouched low, rejoined Wolfram and the kids. Greta asked, "Chichiue Wolfram, who, or _what,_ was Tariel?"

Adelbert put a hand on her shoulder, and said, "Much as I'd _love_ to hear the answer to that, Greta, we've got more urgent concerns right now. Or is that _relevant_, Wolfram?" he added on a sour note of accusation.

"Trolls first," said Wolfram. "Tariel and Bertram… aren't here. And the trolls are. Efram, Günter, got any tricks for attacking the whole group without hurting our hostages?"

Efram shook his head vehemently. "I have some troll-specific offenses. But we can't use them near Brendan and Trenton and Dietrich and Frieda. My troll defenses are good, though. Cousin Adelbert? Do you know the goblin control trick Aldrich taught Brendan? I'll bet anything the normal-sized fighters are part-goblins."

Adelbert shook his head. Günter offered eagerly, "I could take up to five of that group by sword, and hold another five or so by magic. If Efram could hold another five, and Wolfram, you and Adelbert could take on the other…"

"Four against thirty, with hostages? No way, Günter," opined Adelbert. "One goblin puts a dagger to a child's throat, and we're dead meat." Possibly literally – the troll party might execute and eat them. "We need to split them up, divide and conquer."

"If we're lucky, they'll do that of themselves," said Wolfram thoughtfully. "Send the hostages on their way and come after us. Adelbert, can you yell loud enough for them to hear you?" The other man nodded, puzzled. "OK, yell that you've got Bertram. Then we meet them all on the far side of the woods. They'll leave the hostages behind. And, we take down whoever comes after us.

"Greta, you're in charge of counting. I want you to climb into this tree and keep careful count of everybody. Efram, give her your flute. Greta, you use this for only one message – hostages coming closer. If they bring up the hostages, the rest of us run to the next woods over that way. They can only threaten hostages if they can deliver the threat. Other than that, Greta, stay hidden and keep count of each group, and any strays. When you see us, you give us headcounts." He gave his beautiful teenage daughter a hug and then pushed her gently toward her tree. "See you on the other side, sweetie. Yuuri and I love you. Stay safe." The sixteen-year-old nodded bravely and got busy climbing.

"I know the right spot to wait for them," said Günter. He led Wolfram and Efram that way. Adelbert headed off a bit to the left to yell first, so the trolls wouldn't come straight at Greta's position.

Once they'd picked their positions, Efram headed back to get Greta's counts and play bait. Once he had them hooked, he ran back yelling, "Got twenty, female troll leader, ten goblins!" and leapt into the little hollow Wolfram had picked out for him.

Adelbert called softly, "Günter, the lady's worth the rest combined. You got her, or me?" Günter pointed back at him to decline the honor. He preferred to kill males.

Efram was too busy preparing a spell to bother calling dibs. They'd have to fight them a while before he was ready, anyway.

"Spare the goblins if you can," reminded Wolfram. Goblins wouldn't fight unless trolls told them to. Günter growled his continuing disagreement. Wolfram ignored him. _Attend this worthy Mazoku, elementals who dwell in flame…_

As the trolls crashed through the trees towards them, Wolfram hit them with a fireball, setting their clothes alight. The goblins rolled to douse the flames and used majutsu to throw earth at the trolls' flaming clothes while they kept advancing. Günter trapped five trolls by magic, holding them immobile temporarily in an inverted shield. Five part-trolls remained fighting. Wolfram took down a blond half troll by his first-ever attempt to kill by fire healing. Günter laid into the three remaining male trolls with his sword.

Adelbert went after the lead female, possibly a three quarter troll by the size of her. And… stopped and walked away. Because she told him to. Wolfram swallowed and took over that fight, not bothering to draw his sword. His scant five and a half footer's reach versus her nine footer's reach was a lost cause over steel. She rolled the earth under his feet and he rolled with it and hit her with another fireball. She created a boulder from fused earth to throw at him, but found herself suddenly immobilized by Efram's first spell. Wolfram tried another killing heal, but she deflected it with the burst of majutsu she used to break through Efram's snare.

_Faster, Adelbert, move it_, prayed Efram. He didn't dare yell at the big entrolled blond, for fear he'd stop to ask why… Günter, a swordsman of nearly Conrad's caliber, felled his first male, and hamstrung another. Efram snared the female again, just to buy a few more seconds…

She broke through it easily, and had another dirt-boulder in hand. But the soil was wet. Wolfram fire-balled the boulder instead of the opponent, and it exploded in steam. Which did her no harm, but at least kept the boulder off his head.

_Far enough, Adelbert,_ thought Efram. He stood and slammed the lady troll with one of the overdrive spells Aldrich had not wanted taught to Günter. To his amazment, lightning arced between all ten trolls and laid them dead on the spot. Adelbert hadn't been out of range, after all – it arced to him, and he fell. Wolfram ran to tend him.

Efram stood shocked at the carnage. He'd intended to kill one troll, and not only were ten extinguished in a moment, but he caught Adelbert as well. _I was right, Aldrich **was **telling me not to use those overdrives, just the spells he told me to teach Günter correctly, and none of the others from Igor's book…_

Günter stood over the clutch of singed little goblins, who huddled together and sobbed at the devastating loss of their beloved master trolls, including a _Daughter_. Efram feared Günter would slaughter them as they sat, and he surely looked as though he'd love to, but it was just too obviously dishonorable. Barely four feet tall, with toddler-like physiques, mops of brown curls, assorted earth-colors of skin, and trusting big brown eyes dripping tears, they were adorable, and no danger to anyone at the moment.

Efram decided to try the Counting Magic he found so effective on small children. He puffed himself up menacingly, and said, "Goblins, I'm going to _count to ten._" The goblins blanched. "You walk that way," he pointed dramatically perpendicular to the axis from hostages to Adelbert and Wolfram, "until sunset. _One! Two! Three! -_" They fled.

Günter clasped his hands before him in delight. "Oh! Efram, that was brilliant! Where did you learn that spell?"

Efram screwed up his face into a pixie smile. "It's a secret of the masters of the _Bielenfeld Horde._" By which he meant the cousinly mob of the Bielenfeld-Gratz aristo-brats, but Günter was too enraptured to realize he was being made fun of. No doubt he'd been the kind of adult who earnestly _explained things_ to Giesela when she was young.

Efram's triumph was short-lived. When Wolfram yelled for him, he recalled that he may have just murdered his cousin. As they ran toward Adelbert, the flute sounded from Greta, _hostage-bearing trolls incoming._

As they approached, Wolfram said, "Adelbert's breathing again. Help me hide him in the trees. We'll have to leave him here resting."

"Can you use that spell again?" Günter asked as they settled Adelbert into his hiding place. Efram assumed he meant the one that killed ten trolls – eleven counting Adelbert – not the one that scared ten goblins.

"No. He can't," said Wolfram pointedly. "We make for the next stand of trees, as planned. There are only three trolls left." And they took off at a run.

oOo

_Was that the spell that killed my father and all those others?_ asked Garena, a sighing of leaves in the trees above.

_Yes, like that, but I think your grandson knew not what he did. It was a terrible mistake this time, as well, _replied Tariel._ You must go back to Bertram as a person. It is not enough to watch and protect. Babies are helpless and frightened alone._

_What of the quarter-troll?_

_I will heal him a little more._

_My grandson does not like me. Perhaps we should trade tasks._

_You never had to take care of your own son. It's time you paid your dues._

Tariel, appearing again as a child of indeterminate sex, knelt beside Adelbert and healed him completely, but left him sleeping. The trolls and hostages crashed by unable to see them.

When the hostage party had passed, Tariel healed the burns to the trees as well. The maryoku of the wood nymphs was the element of life.

Tariel departed to confer with his allies. Greta felt the coast was clear, and came up carefully, to see whether the coast was clear enough to make for the next trees. She stopped, seeing that the hostage party was still in plain view. But she found Adelbert and woke him. They moved carefully to the far end of the woods, unknowingly in the direction that Efram had imperiously dispatched the goblins.

oOo

As the hostages passed the place of battle, Brendan saw something Adelbert had been too rushed to notice. Their father Adeldan von Gratz lay dead under those trees, with the other part trolls.

Adeldan had walked out on his domain and family nearly half Brendan's life ago, leaving only a note to say that he went to meet his destiny. It was true that Brendan was a quarter troll, just as Aldrich, and without nearly Aldrich's wood nymph defenses against entrollment. But it was also true that female pheromones entrolled by working on brain chemistry. Those feel-good effects were pleasant and subtle.

Brendan's rage was anything but subtle. The rage more than counter-acted the pheromones. He'd never been entrolled at all, and now with the female dead, neither were the other male part trolls, nor the children. Trenton looked terrified. Though too full of not-worry at the time to be concerned down by the canoes, the boy had recognized his grandfather from the portrait in his grandmother's room, and recognized him where he lay dead as well. Dietrich, like his father, was not especially entrolled in the first place. He enjoyed the high without really losing his own judgment – his judgment simply suggested he keep a low profile. Annissina and the other part-goblins of the party were still obeying whoever last sang to them.

Brendan let them reach the open Fens again, to maximize the chance of Wolfram seeing what was going on. He subvocally sang to the five demon-goblins, bringing them under _his_ control. He supposed the six goblins were under his control as well, not that it mattered – goblins wouldn't harm anyone in this group, all part-troll or part-goblin. He moved closer to Annissina and told her to come back to her own control, remembering everything.

The three remaining half-troll captors had not been the ones who sang to the goblins before. They were clearly underlings. Brendan planted his feet, which made the boys and Annissina and other goblins stop in their tracks as well. The half-trolls per force stopped and looked back. "What, are you going to leave them there to rot?" Brendan demanded. "They deserve a death feast."

A dark red haired mountain of a man – Adeldan's size – looked uncomfortable. "They do. But we were supposed to take all of these captive," he waved vaguely toward the next slight rise of woods several hundred yards away. "Troll Mother said. Perhaps… we can come back for the death feast…"

The other two half-trolls looked likewise uneasy. _Just push a little harder,_ thought Brendan. _Maybe no one else has to die._ "You can't be serious!" he cried. "You saw the power of those magicians! A _Daughter_ and nine other trolls lay dead! And you don't know _those_ people like _I_ do. They thought we should make a stand to the death to avoid capture. They'll kill us all!" He rubbed Trenton's head with his free hand to make clear he didn't mean it. He hugged Frieda closer as though to protect her with his other arm. He didn't bother to reassure Dietrich – raised by Aldrich, the child was likely ten steps ahead of him.

Sure enough, Dietrich – _the_ most charming, well-mannered boy you could hope to meet – planted his feet and crossed his arms in an uncanny imitation of his cousin Wolfram at his most spoilt and imperious, beautiful demonic green eyes flashing. "And just _where_ are you taking us?" he demanded. "I _insist_ I be brought to my father Lord Aldrich at Blood Pledge Castle, where he confers with the Troll Mother and the Maou, _immediately._ Clearly you cannot protect us. We must make all haste for Shin Makoku."

The half-trolls looked at each other uncomfortably. "We're bound for Trond Hall," the slate grey-haired one admitted. He wasn't old, simply born with grey hair, like Gwendal. "Trondheim's a lot closer than Shin Makoku."

Unfortunately, that was a very reasonable point.

So Annissina plonked herself down on the ground, yanked out a very large breast, nipple hugely erect, and plugged it into Grendel, who hadn't been quite hungry yet, but was close enough. He started slurping greedily.

Now trolls were far from stupid. But they were a strictly matriarchal society. The Lords of Trond Hall were for interfacing with demon society. And the true primary use of female troll pheromones was to maintain a pleasant, well-mannered, kind society. The third part-troll – smaller and blue-haired, possibly only a three-eighther like Ted – bent down timorously, and suggested, "Ah, madam? Perhaps this isn't the best time for that."

"Well, it's too late_ now,_" Annissina said crossly. To underscore her point, she yanked her even more erect nipple from Grendel's mouth. It spouted milk at the troll, and Grendel screamed, grabbing for it back. Annissina wouldn't let him have it, in order to elicit more screaming.

The troll hastily pulled back and said, "Ah, please, madam, then, by all means…" Grendel got his nipple back. The three trolls variously looked toward the direction the escapees had gone, the dead in the woods, and the uncooperative hostages, whom they really intended to treat courteously. Trolls were willing to kill people, but dead or alive, they wouldn't be _rude_ to them.

The red haired troll bid the part-goblins, "You guys, please go back up there and get the hearts and livers, and the breasts of the Daughter. We can at least take part of them back for their death feast with family." The other trolls nodded – wise compromise, and the families of the fallen could feast them.

"And then we go to _Shin Makoku,_" insisted Dietrich. "To my _father_. Lord Efram the magician," he pointed to the far woods where Günter and the von Bielenfelds had run, "my predecessor as master of the Bielenfeld Horde, is under orders to kill us if need be, to keep us from Trondheim."

Follow-up questions to this assertion were neatly prevented by Trenton yelling, "_YOU?! I'm_ Efram's successor!" He tackled Dietrich to the ground.

_Aw, Trent, _thought Brendan fondly, _He suckered you good. You'll never outsmart Diet for head of the horde this way. Brawn just won't cut it against those cunning little Bielenbrats._ He would know – Brendan himself _had_ ruled the Horde for decades.

"Maybe _that's_ why Troll Mother breeds quarters back up-troll. These eighths aren't very… _troll,_" the blue-haired troll said sadly. They all shook their heads in dismay.

Brendan stepped back into the conversation as the voice of reason. He shook his head and confided in the trolls, "His father Lord Aldrich is really the only one who can control him." _Sorry to slander you, Diet. _In fact, Dietrich had used the _only_ taunt that would result in blows between the two best friends, still scuffling in the mud. Both boys were trollishly good-natured. "It's a pity take him all the way to Trond Hall, just to turn around and take him back to Shin Makoku. And I fear he's right about Lord Efram – a _terrifying_ magician, and his henchman Günter is almost as bad. It really would be safest to head straight for Blood Pledge Castle."

The red-haired troll peered over his sunglasses and stared Brendan in the eye.

Brendan shrugged. "Look, we were supposed to hide. You found us. Next we're going to Blood Pledge Castle. You'll get stuck bringing us there. You want to go the hard way or the easy way?"

Dietrich, still dodging Trenton, chose to drive Brendan's point home by setting Frieda's hair on fire – just a little. "I want my _father!_" he shrieked.

The trolls all flinched. _Such ghastly untrollishness … and no Daughter to make the children behave! _Brendan patted out the fire in Frieda's hair and soothed the screaming toddler.

"Alright already!" the red-head yelled over the din. "Your parole – if we head for Blood Pledge Castle, you'll come along peaceably. And these children will _behave?_ You so vow on your honor?"

Brendan bowed solemnly. "You have my parole. Dietrich, show's over." Dietrich started scrabbling backwards, grinning, to escape Trenton's still-maddened punches. "Trent… Trenton… _Trenton von Gratz!_" Brendan bellowed. "_Behave!_"

Anissina picked herself up – Grendel still suckling. "Let's walk around that way," she suggested, pointing to the end of the wood opposite Greta's end. "I refuse to go through… _that._" _That_ being the butchering ground of the dead trolls.

"Ah, excuse me, actually, madam," the grey-haired troll said apologetically, "For Blood Pledge Castle, we'd head _that_ way, to exit the Fens to the south." He pointed to the left of the heading she'd suggested, toward a woods-free expanse of Fens to the horizon. He dispatched some goblins to tell the butchering half-goblins they were heading out, and for them to head straight back to Trond Hall when they were done here. "Ah, Lord Gratz? I'm afraid it's rather a long walk. Perhaps… well…" The troll looked most dismayed, beholding the muddy boys in torn clothes, Trenton still practically steaming at the ears.

Brendan said, "Dietrich? This nice gentleman is offering you a piggy-back ride."

Dietrich smiled angelically and bowed. "Yes, please, kind sir." And he held up his arms to be picked up.

Brendan ruffled Trenton's muddy hair affectionately, and suggested mildly, "This one may need to walk off a little energy first, thanks. Say, what do you make those sunglasses out of?"

"Horn, with a little majutsu to improve the transparency. Wanna try 'em?"

Brendan tried them on. "Oh, that's really nice. Midday sun can give me kind of a headache. These are clever."

"Oh, please keep them as a gift," the troll replied, waving him off as Brendan tried to hand the sunglasses back. "Dobby, could you go fetch us all the sunglasses from the woods and catch up?" A goblin trotted off to the task.

"Oh, thank you very much," said Brendan.

And they set off, at an extraodinary walking pace. Powerful earth-majutsu users, the trolls and goblins rolled the earth underfoot. Rather than trudging through the mud carved by open water, it was like walking on a firm smooth rolling airport walkway. Of course, it was still a very long walk to Blood Pledge Castle, and once they left the Fens, they would only walk by night.

oOo

"What are they doing?" said Wolfram. "My eyes aren't good enough."

"Get down, Wolfram, Efram. I can see", offered Günter, pulling the two von Bielenfelds back under cover, from the edge of the second woods. "Ah! They appear to have stopped to argue amongst themselves, the villains! Brendan Lord Gratz is in a towering rage!"

Efram's face screwed up into a maximum pixie smile at Wolfram. Wolfram shook his head and buried his face in his hand. _Brendan? A towering rage? That'd be the day…_

"Oh, no! They've threatened Lord Dietrich with death! Oh, my word! Oh, no! _Annissina!_ The brutes have cruelly shoved her to the ground! Her bodice is torn! They mean to _ravish _her in front of her _child! _But what's this? They've spotted Adelbert and Greta! The half-goblins are headed back to the woods at a run! They're in mortal danger! Hark! Now the goblins have set to fighting amongst themselves in the hostage party!"

"What happened to Annissina getting ravaged?" inquired Efram.

"_'Ravished'_," corrected Wolfram. "Yeah, Günter, what's up with that?" Wolfram cast a deeply dubious look upward at Günter.

"Shinou be praised! The scuffle amidst the goblins has distracted them from raping Annissina! She is saved!" There was a pause, followed by Günter crying, "Oh, no! _Horror!_ They've set Lord Gratz and sweet Frieda _ablaze! _The _MONSTERS!_"

"Keep your _voice_ down, Günter!" Wolfram hissed. Efram signed a 'D' for _'Dietrich'_. Wolfram rolled his eyes and nodded, _yeah obviously…_ Dietrich was the only other fire user on the fen.

"Ah! Thank _heavens!_ Lord Brendan has doused the blaze, and calmed the fight amongst the evil blond goblins. Lord Brendan is so noble, so kind, so wise!"

"Well, when he's not in a towering rage, at least," commented Efram.

"Blond goblins," noted Wolfram.

"It was a righteous rage!" objected Günter. "A noble Lord defending his –"

"Yeah, so Günter, what's happening down there now?" interrupted Wolfram.

"Ah, a large red brute has grabbed sweet Lord Dietrich and thrown him upon his back. What's this? They're blind-folding and binding Lord Brendan, monsters most cruel! Another goblin has been dispatched to the assault on Greta and Adelbert! And… what's this? _What's this?!?_" Günter clapped his hands together in the way he reserved for flights of rapture. "I had never hoped to see it for myself! The flying of the trolls! They have risen the earth unto a wave and are surfing upon it!"

The von Bielenfeld brothers looked at each other, then stuck their heads up to see for themselves. Günter pointed off to the south, and they peered. Their eyes weren't really good enough to see anything but a streak of brown heading straight away from them. _Well, could be earth surfing…_

"Huh. So, Annissina didn't get ravished?" said Efram.

Wolfram clapped him on the back. "Maybe next time," he said, laughing.

"Lord Wolfram!" Günter cried, offended at his taking a break. "We must away to save Greta and Adelbert. We can easily kill the remaining goblins and half-goblins!"

"Oh, yeah," sighed Wolfram. But just then, a flute sounded in the opposite direction. "Greta!" he cried, standing. "Come on, Greta first!" And they ran away from the woods where the half-goblins worked, preparing what little they could of ten slain trolls, to bring home for their death feasts with their families.

Those bloody woods also still contained Greta and Adelbert. Tariel, who'd been watching them, was the one who blew the flute to draw them away. _Enough senseless killing! Let those poor half-goblins attend to their dead in peace!_

oOo

Night fell. Adelbert and Greta kept half an eye on the half-goblins at their grisly task, and saw them leave. But Wolfram and Efram and Günter had not returned. They walked to the far woods and found no one, and no tracks to follow.

"Chichiue Wolfram wouldn't have just _left_ us," said Greta. Yet, they'd been gone nearly twelve hours.

"Let's wait back at the canoes, at least," said Adelbert. "Have some food."

As they trudged along, suddenly a party of goblins leapt up from the squishy herbs in the dark. "Oh, sir! Kind troll sir! Won't you help us? Oh, please sir?" A goblin attached itself to Adelbert's leg. Adelbert, eyebrows akimbo, stared down in disbelief. "We are lost! Oh, please, you are troll, sir! Please help us find our way home!" The goblin was in tears.

Greta, who'd initially jumped behind Adelbert to hide, holding his waist, peered around at the little beings. "Oh, Chichibert, they're cute! Are you goblins?"

Chichibert, naturally, was the name she and Efram selected for Frieda's father. Neither dared use the natural extension, Chichifred for Manfred, who was strictly Chichiue or Grand-chichiue. Chichifram or Wolchichiue were simply too hard to say. And Wimpue stuck like glue for Yuuri. So only Chichiue Adelbert suffered this contraction. He swatted Efram when he used the nickname, but suffered the other children to call him Chichibert.

"Yes, wise ma'am! We_ are_ goblins! My name is Jophin, and this is…" he reeled off the names for all nine of his companions. No doubt a better trained troll could have memorized them that fast, but Adelbert wasn't raised among the troll-kin. "Please, troll sir! You can't leave us here! The Kristfolk hate goblins. They'll kill us all!"

"Oh, I can't imagine anyone hating you," said Greta. "Right, Chichibert?"

"Ah…" said Adelbert reluctantly. "Actually… yeah. They're in danger."

Jophin and the others were crying openly. "Please troll sir. We just want to go home!"

"We'll protect you!" said Greta. "Come with us and have some supper."

"Really? On the boats? Oh, thank you, thank you! Oh, we'll run ahead and make a fire for you and cook your supper for you! You'll see! We're very good goblins!" And they all ran ahead to the boats.

Adelbert sighed. Defensively, Greta said, "Well, they_ trusted_ us, to _protect_ them. And they're so _cute,_ Chichibert! Do you think Chichiue Wolfram will let me take them home with me?"

"Greta… they're _people,_ not pets," objected Adelbert helplessly. But Greta, with her winning ways, had already latched herself onto her Chichibert's arm and was dragging him along to supper with their new little friends. Where the goblins eagerly attended to every conceivable personal service they could render their troll and his delighted girl.

_And this is why there are so many part-goblins in the world,_ thought Adelbert sadly. _And nobody wants to admit it…_ In Trondheim, any sexual relation between a larger race man and a goblin woman was a crime of capital rape, for a pregnancy would be fatal to a poor little goblin woman and the baby, and _'informed consent'_ an oxymoron. A goblin girl would do anything you asked, including kill herself, which was likewise judged capital murder. Half-goblins were invariably the result of a woman playing with male goblins, who were adorably cuddly cute and _absolutely_ eager to please, singly or in groups. No one really felt comfortable admitting their mother… did that. Though, the offspring did get a big boost in maryoku, especially if the mother was an earth majutsu user. Like all other visible traits with goblin hybrids, what kind of maryoku the children bore came from the mother. Wolfram's old troop of strong majutsu users from relatively modest backgrounds, no doubt had a few goblin-powered talents. When a strong majutsu user came of rather ordinary folk… one didn't ask.

After midnight, they gave up, and decided to head home, as the goblins assured them there was only the one hostage search party from Trondheim. They left a note for Wolfram on one canoe, and took the other. Adelbert ran the majutsu paddling device. The goblins did all the canoe porting.

oOo

_Please review? Pretty please? _


	8. The Dragon Insurrection

Kyou Kara Maou : The Trouble With Trolls

Summary: Wolfram's attempt to bypass Maou Wedding Curse with a small family ceremony, backfires when an uninvited relative arrives - the Troll Mother.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

_Please review._

Chapter 8 : The Dragon Insurrection

"But, Troll Mother," said Aldrich, "please, I don't understand why you got so angry last night. I can't help you and Wolfram's Yuuri to talk and resolve your territory claims if I don't understand."

"Oh, Little Rickie, don't bother yourself about _that,_" Troll Mother replied. "We have a different agenda tonight." She fondled his blond bangs. Yuuri noticed he was sweating, and seemed to have trouble focusing. Troll Mother had no other troll-kin at tonight's meeting, save Aldrich.

_"No!"_ said Manfred suddenly, and got up and strode to the head of the table. He grabbed Aldrich's arm. "_Get up,_ Aldrich. You're sitting at the foot of the table with me. Troll Mother, stop this immediately! Or we will cease these discussions for the night, and consider removing Lord Aldrich from them _permanently_."

Yuuri stood in outrage – Manfred had no right to speak in these proceedings! The words died on his lips as he saw that Aldrich could barely stand. Conrad leapt to the petite Manfred's assistance. Both men helped Aldrich to the foot of the table.

"Well, certainly, we can take a break from these proceedings," allowed Troll Mother, "but Little Rickie comes with me. It's time for you to go to the trolls, dear."

Aldrich slumped into his new seat, vacant of Chancellor Gwendal von Walde this night, and kept on slumping until his face was on his arms on the table. "No," he said weakly. "Not yet…"

"Don't be silly, dear. You've had more than enough time to play with your small friends, it's long overdue. We'll help your little son Dietrich rule Bielenfeld well, and his little cousin Trenton rule Gratz, and Grendel rule Walde. They're all in our custody now, you see. But they will be raised kindly, and those domains will have rulers of the blood of the new regime and the old. That will help everyone feel more comfortable."

Manfred was monitoring Aldrich with a healer's touch and clearly didn't like what he saw.

"Hostages…" murmured Aldrich. "Brendan, Wolfram, the others, what have you done with them, Troll Mother?"

"Well, they'll live long and happy lives in exchange for yours, dear. Now come along."

Yuuri's hair rose with blue lightning playing in it. He didn't otherwise look much different in Maou mode these days, having grown up to look as he always had under that power. He was not out of control, not yet. But his full powers were at hand's reach. "Manfred, feel free to remove Aldrich to Friedrich for his safety, if he needs it. Troll Mother – Lord Aldrich is not yours to take. There is no question whatsoever of us agreeing to _any_ of your demands until _all_ hostages are returned."

"Then the first to die will be, oh, let's see," said Troll Mother. "There's a little red-headed girl, Bertie's Frieda, isn't it? Isn't she your foster daughter, Shinou's Yuuri?"

"Enough," a new voice said, a husky tenor.

Yuuri whirled to see two… children… suddenly in the room, with the von Bielenfeld look about their faces, wearing sleeveless tan shifts. One was carrying – "_Bertram!_ Who are you? Why do you have my son?"

Manfred ran to the door and yelled to the guards, "Get Friedrich von Bielenfeld and Elliott von Wincott down here _now!_ And leave guards with Gwendal von Walde!"

The child in many long braids bearing Bertram, looked at Yuuri blankly and crossed to Manfred. "_Your_ son," he said to Manfred. Manfred accepted the baby from him wordlessly. For the moment, Bertram was all eyes, going to Manfred silently.

Tariel, whose hairstyle made him look uncannily like a young boy Wolfram, ignored Yuuri and the others, focusing on Troll Mother. "You kill your children, Tanya. This is not acceptable."

"You dare to interfere, Tariel! Aldrich is _my _descendant! I do not accept the death of my race as you do! I build it back. He is _mine!"_

Tariel crossed behind Aldrich and turned into a tiny but beautiful woman before Yuuri's eyes. He – now she – bent down and put her face next to Aldrich's, and stroked his bangs back from his forehead. Though the gesture was much like Troll Mother's, the effect was opposite. The slumped Aldrich blinked, took a deep breath, and his face revived. He sat up, and Tariel stood up, their heads still on a level. Those huge green, long lashed, captivating von Bielenfeld eyes, were the same on both Tariel and Aldrich. Although Aldrich's were warm and passionate, full of humor and intelligence. Tariel, for all her beauty, was cool and dispassionate.

"See the family resemblance?" said Tariel. "Aldrich is my grandson. You do not kill my grandson, Tanya. I do not allow it."

"_Grandson!?_ The wood nymphs had no more children! You could not breed with demons – you strangelings are not breedable with any other race! You were the last of the wood nymphs!"

"No. Wood nymph maryoku is life. I have three children by Theophilus von Bielenfeld. One, Emeraude, is dead. She is great-grandmother to that one." Tariel pointed at Conrad. "Another is Garena." She pointed to her companion, now appearing as a compact but well-built young man. The door opened and Friedrich and von Wincott appeared. "The third is Friedrich von Bielenfeld."

"You lied," said Troll Mother to Friedrich, aghast. "You told me you were pure demon! You are half _wood nymph_!"

Friedrich shrugged. "And you told me Aldrich would be one eighth troll. So we're even. Why would I be willing to father a part-troll with fire healing maryoku? I believed the wood nymph in him could withstand you, and he could help solve this endless feud."

"Many lies," observed Tariel. "Lies do not make trust."

"Taking hostages also breeds distrust," said Yuuri angrily. "How do you come to have my son? And where is my fiancé?"

"I take the baby from Wolfram von Bielenfeld in Krist Fens," replied Tariel. "Bertram is Shinou reborn. He is not safe as hostage of Tanya, who calls herself Troll Mother now. Yet eats her children." Tariel added, on an almost-sad note.

"_You!_ _You_ took the Shinou babe!" screeched Troll Mother. "How _dare_ you interfere!"

"As I said. I do not interfere when you rebuild your race. We do not like what we see, Tanya, but we understand. Shinou killed trolls. You want to rebuild trolls. We allow. You kill your children. We grieve, but we allow. There is no other solution. But now there is other solution. You have enough trolls. And you do not kill _my_ children, even to take revenge on Shinou. We do not allow."

"_'We'?_ You and two sons? Their degenerate descendants? The wood nymph are gone, extinct, _nothing!"_ yelled Troll Mother. "And wood nymphs never could fight, never could kill. I am willing to kill. I am willing to _fight_ for the trolls' survival!"

Tariel said, "It is true I do not kill. I do not have to. But like all races, we protect our descendants." She pointed to Conrad again. "This one and his brothers, all my descendants, protect. They protect dragons and honey-bee bears and Kohi and all rare races. The others protect other people, other things. This one," she placed her hands on Aldrich's shoulders, "even protects trolls and goblins. Mine are worthy descendants of the wood nymphs.

"All races protect their own children. But there are criminals. You have murdered your children, Tanya. Mermensch, dragons, salamanders, elves, the others – we agree. You do not murder any more." Tariel turned and pointed at Yuuri. "But neither do they. There is no more killing of the dwindling races. We are too few. _All_ demon people protect. _All _the other races. We demand so."

"I will fight," began Troll Mother.

"You will not," said Tariel. "The dragons fly." She pointed to the window.

As the others crossed to the windows to look, Yuuri took back Bertram from Manfred, hugging him tight. "Wimpy!" the baby said, with a big smile under flashing demon green eyes. "Chewy toes."

"Yes, sweetie, we'll get Chichiue back from the trolls," agreed Yuuri. "But look, there's dragons!"

"So many," breathed Conrad, rapt. They'd had no idea so many dragons remained. Ten of them flew over Blood Pledge Castle in formation, and bellowed. Embers flying from their scales made them visible in the night sky. They split into a ring and spewed fire. Three broke off and breathed fire on Shinou's tomb, another three on the roofs of Blood Pledge Castle. The flames lapped on stone in harmless warning. The other four dragons broke off and headed northeast.

"You agree, Maou Yuuri?" asked Tariel. "You agree to protect all races. Agree it is murder to kill trolls and goblins and others, and I tell them you surrender. Or they destroy Blood Pledge Castle and town, and then all Aristocrat castles and cities in all domains of Shin Makoku Federation."

"_I_ surrender?" cried Yuuri in surprise.

"And Tanya, you also surrender," said Tariel. "Or dragons destroy troll reservation and Trond Hall and Trondheim cities."

Yuuri gazed in wonder at the dragons. "I am more than willing, I am _eager,_ to protect all races," he said. "I want only peace for all citizens in Shin Makoku. Clearly all Mazoku races are brothers of the Mazoku demons. I agree it is murder to kill each other. I will protect all my citizens, and ensure that the Aristocrats do the same in their domains."

"I _cannot_ trust them!" screamed Troll Mother. "Tariel, you know what they have done to us! _All_ of us, not just the trolls and goblins! How can you trust?"

"You need not trust demons. You trust _dragons_," pointed out Tariel. "The dragons enforce this." Tariel kind of … faded… for a few long moments. When she solidified again, he was his boy form again. "The dragons accept Maou Yuuri's surrender. They fly for Trondheim now. Your answer, Tanya."

"Ten dragons cannot protect us," argued Tanya.

"Thirty," replied Tariel. "There is a dragon on every castle of the Aristocrats, and every major city. And they stand guard until Yuuri does his work. The four flying for Trondheim are to destroy the troll reservation."

"And if Shinou's Yuuri cannot do what he promises?" demanded Tanya.

"He does," said Tariel. "You _know_ that I know that, Tanya. But if all you understand is threat – the dragons kill demons until they no longer outnumber the other races." He let this sink in a moment, then lowered Troll Mother's emotional barrier, adding softly, "Your people have suffered great pain, Tanya. You did what you had to do to rebuild troll blood. It is enough now. Trolls can survive. The other races help. It is enough." His voice resumed its cooler tone to repeat, "Your answer, Tanya."

Troll Mother clenched her fists, giant tears falling from her eyes in pain and anger. Aldrich walked over and put his hand in her hand. "Please, Troll Mother," he said. "You_ are_ Troll Mother. We live. You did the impossible, you built us back from nothing. You are a heroine, mother of our people. We will always love you, revere you, for what you've done. Now we have a new choice. Let us live in peace with the demons. Trolls are nice people. We _want_ to be friends. Please, Troll Mother?"

Troll Mother looked at Aldrich and saw that he really did understand, that he really did appreciate what she had done. And she understood him. She hung her head and nodded. "You win, Tariel. I surrender. Call off the dragons."

"And you release the hostages, and work with Yuuri to make new laws. It is a crime to breed up-troll if males die of it," clarified Tariel. "You obey new laws, Tanya?"

"They will make us give up the death feast!" Troll Mother said in anguish.

"No," said Yuuri. "I understand the death feast. We will respect your rites for the dead. But you will not kill a man by breeding. That will be a crime until we find a way to make it safe for him to do so. Troll Mother, there will be difficult decisions and compromises. But your people will have a say. All the other peoples will, too. And our Aldrich can help us all understand. We can make this work."

"And you do not have much choice," said Tariel. "Agree to release the hostages, and lead your people to obey new laws. Or the dragons kill your children."

"Agreed," said Troll Mother, finally admitting defeat. Tariel phased out again a moment. "The surrenders are done."

"Where are the hostages?" demanded Yuuri.

"Danny's Brendan and four children and Gwendal's Annissina walk to Blood Pledge Castle with only three trolls," replied Troll Mother. "They arrive by morning, probably. They did not catch any others. Ten trolls lay dead," she added bitterly. "By _your_ descendants' hands, Tariel."

"Yes, it was sad," agreed Tariel. "But they did it to protect. And they knew not what they did. I speak to my children of this. Tonight, we wait for hostages to come back. Then you return to Trondheim, Tanya, and prepare your negotiators. Yuuri sends for his Lords. When peace is accomplished, the dragons depart your cities. Until then, all who kill across race will be killed, by dragons or others.

"Now, Tanya, please leave us. I visit with my family. And Yuuri Maou talks to his people about the dragons." And Troll Mother walked off the balcony into the night. Aldrich stood sadly at the railing a few minutes watching her go, as most of the others went back inside.

Friedrich put a hand on his shoulder. He murmured,"You did well, Son. I can't tell you how proud I am of you." Aldrich smiled gratefully, and the two shared a hug before heading in to join the rest.

oOo

"Garena," said Tariel. "The others?"

Garena sat on the floor, chin on hand, elbow on knee, staring up at Manfred and frowning. Though generally as dispassionate as Tariel, his face seemed capable of some emotion. He clearly didn't like what he saw. Manfred gave him an evil green demon glare in return.

"Why is your son in his arms?" demanded Garena, with a jerk of the head toward Yuuri.

Manfred scowled. "Yuuri and my son Wolfram adopted my son Bertram. What business is it of yours?"

"Garena," repeated Tariel. "The others?"

Garena kept glowering at Manfred. "Adelbert and Greta are on a canoe with goblins. They are here by mid-morning. I send a baby dragon for the troll murderers –_ his_ sons – and the von Krist. They are here in three hours."

Yuuri heaved a sigh of relief and hugged Bertram close. "Chichiue will be home by morning, sweetie. Everybody's safe." Aldrich and Manfred shared a hug of relief as well.

"It is not murder to kill when protecting," Tariel corrected Garena. "And as I said, it's time you paid your dues." She let that sink in a moment – on him, apparently, since no one else understood the comment.

"Tariel, Garena, I thank you for the news of Wolfram, for protecting Bertram, and all the rest you've done this night," interrupted Yuuri. "I hope you will stay here for some days as we prepare for this peace process?"

Tariel shrugged. "That is necessary. I talk to dragons. You do not."

"Aha! Yes, yes. In fact, I… really ought to go do something about that now." He added to Conrad, "There are dragons sitting on roofs all over Shin Makoku and no one but us knows why or what I've agreed to. If you'll excuse us? Conrad, Aldrich, Lord Wincott, perhaps you could assist me in, ah," he scratched his head, "crafting the instructions to the Aristocrats."

"Any attack on other races," Tariel reminded him, "is death." Tariel and Yuuri stared at each other for some moments – Yuuri was not one for the death penalty. Eventually Tariel added, "We enforce, not you. You only tell them."

Yuuri stared at him a moment longer, grimly. His voice was cold when he responded. "I understand. And I did surrender. Do you have any idea how long this… _dragon martial law_… will continue, Tariel? That I might communicate this to my vassals?"

"The leaves fall and the dragons depart," said Tariel. "But you do not tell them that. Aldrich helps you tell the Lords. Accepting other races' representatives is hard, many arguments. Only wood nymphs talk to all other races. Too much von Bielenfelds. These arguments take time."

Aldrich, Conrad, and von Wincott nodded solemnly. Yuuri was vastly grateful that his political advisor Wolfram would be back soon – hopefully before these letters had to go out. "Well, you'll excuse us," he said, with an ironic bow to the tiny conqueror with the big green eyes. And they left to join Gwendal in his tower and plan how to communicate the sudden new world order to the rest of Shin Makoku. Manfred took Bertram back from Yuuri before he left – the baby still needed strong protection and a bed.

oOo

Their departure left only Friedrich, Manfred, a sleeping Bertram, and the wood nymphs in the dining hall. They spoke until the hostages began returning. As families reunited, and the immediate letters were dispatched, everyone finally got some rest.

Troll Mother and her retinue departed after sundown, with little more being said.

oOo

The late afternoon river boats bore return correspondence packets for the upriver Aristocrats, and quite a lot for Yuuri as well, delivered as the group visited before dinner was served. Yuuri was unsurprised when somber Gwendal disappeared immediately into his office with Yuuri's and his own correspondence, to stew and glower over. The elderly Lord Regent Elliot von Wincott skimmed his mail briefly before dinner, engaged in pleasant supper conversation, then excused himself to work. Brendan and Aldrich ignored their mail until the after supper coffee, while the children were excused from the table to play. Yuuri offered an office, but Brendan waved this away. "No, no, it's family hour. Though… not very edifying tonight, I'm afraid," he added to Aldrich, sadly.

In contrast, Aldrich was chuckling over his topmost letter. "Oh, I've got it tonight, Brendan. Let's begin, boys!" Trenton and Dietrich ran up to him, and Brendan put aside his mail. All were smiling. "OK, so here's the setup. Lord Howard's been left with the domain while his lazy liege lord's on vacation downriver, right? And overnight, no warning, no explanation – a dragon alights on Castle Bielenfeld! People are _scared!_ There are no _answers!_ There is_ muttering _and _unrest_ in the kingdom!"

Trenton and Dietrich muttered unrestfully, falling onto each other's arms in fear, pointing above at an imagined dragon. Efram joined in, squealing in fear and hiding his face on Greta's shoulder. Frieda giggled. Wolfram reached for Yuuri's hand and squeezed, smiling. Manfred, Friedrich, Cecilie, Conrad, Yozak, Günter, Annissina, and Gregor von Dienst all sat back to enjoy the show. Adelbert picked Frieda up onto his lap. Tariel and Garena hadn't dined with them, and the babies were already in bed.

"Now, Lord Howard," Aldrich continued, once he felt everyone grasped the spirit of the situation, "doesn't know any more than they do why there's a dragon on his roof. So, what to do, what to do… You'll _never_ guess this one." He raised one eyebrow at one boy, one at the other. The boys nodded for him to go on. "He holds a _dragon naming contest_! Now, think about it – what does this goofy solution accomplish?"

Everyone, not just the boys, looked at each other while they thought about it. Most came to an enlightened look after a moment or two, smiling. Yuuri was still looking puzzled at a smirking Wolfram, when Aldrich continued because Dietrich and Trenton had answers. He pointed to Trenton and gave Dietrich a hug.

"He's buying time!" said Trenton.

"Very good! Anything else?" The boys looked unsure. "I think Efram and Greta know. What happens to the fearful _muttering_ and _unrest_ in the kingdom?"

Greta shaded her eyes to better peer at the ceiling. "I think he looks like a _Robinaud,_" she mooned in a dreamy falsetto.

Efram folded his arms and tut-tutted. "What a sissy name for a dragon. He needs a brave title – _Demonbane!_"

Annissina folded her arms and harrumphed. "_She_ is the brave-hearted fire-breathing _Angelique!_" Everyone chimed in with names after that, mostly romantic or dangerous or heroic. Yuuri wryly suggested '_Alford'_. Wolfram offered _'Fido'_ and Conrad _'Moopsie'_. Aldrich pointed at them grinning, _You're catching on!_

After they'd all named the dragon, Aldrich continued, "Well, that's a definite improvement over muttering and unrest, isn't it? Lord Howard's brilliant! Oh, he doesn't say in his letter, but who do you think judges the contest? And when?" This one he left just to the boys. When they both had an answer, he picked Dietrich.

"After supper," Dietrich said. "He judges the contest, after he's had time to get letters upriver from Blood Pledge Castle and think them over." Trenton nodded.

Aldrich nodded. "Good answer! I bet that's just what he did. And the winning dragon name was… drum roll please," the boys drummed the table, "… _Neville!_"

Into the ensuing silence, Trenton opined, "Your Lord Howard's a _dweeb_. What kind of name is _Neville_ for a fire-breathing dragon?" Brendan, chuckling, enfolded him in a hug.

Aldrich nodded, "You're right, Trenton. Howard _is_ a dweeb, but he's an _inspired _dweeb! Howard didn't want a scary name for the dragon! Now everybody's looking at the thing with the wimpy name and saying, _'Poor dragon…'_ And best of all, the winning contestant was _Edna the bakerwife!_ Trenton, you don't know Edna, but she's the worst, most feared gossip in all Castletown._ Everyone_ in Castletown knows that poor Neville was named by," his voice dropped to a low death dirge, "_Edna_.

"So, OK, nobody's really all that scared of the dragon anymore. But Lord Howard knows that the thing's going to sit up there for months. And he's the father of an adolescent himself." Aldrich flourished his hand to give Greta and Efram their cue.

Efram mimicked the swagger of the bane of his existance as Head of the Horde – Lord Howard's son Harald. He boasted to Greta, "Last night, I went up there, and I popped that dragon right on the nose." He gave the air a right jab.

"You did _not!_" said Greta, arms folded and foot tapping. "Prove it!"

"I bet I can hit him with a rock!" said Trenton.

"That's mean!" objected Dietrich.

"Humph! He's got scales, it won't hurt him! You're a wimp!" retorted Trenton.

"Ah, so you see the problem!" continued Aldrich smoothly, before the boys could forget they were playacting. "Attacking a member of any other race is punishable by _death!_"

"Do you really think the dragon would _eat_ children?" asked Dietrich. The boys looked more eager than scared by this prospect.

Aldrich wagged a hand so-so. "Best not to risk it. Better to channel their energy in another direction. Now, O heirs to the agricultural might of Gratz and Bielenfeld: What do we do with unwanted important guests?"

"We feed them and feed them until they _roll away home!_" The boys rolled into balls and tumbled across the floor. Clearly this was a well-practiced standard answer in their how-to-rule repertoire.

"That's _right!_" said Aldrich. He flourished his letter, and read, "_'My son Lord Harald and his team report preliminary dietary research results: Neville prefers beef over pork, Tarkenburg Purple over Bielenfeld Blue_ – yeah, everybody picks on my potatoes – _and ale over water. I fear, my liege, that Neville ate your hydrangeas before we realized he also liked plants. So tomorrow shall commence the vegetable preference studies.'_ What'd I tell you? Lord Howard is brilliant!"

"He's still a dweeb," chorused Friedrich, Manfred, Brendan, and Efram.

"Granted," said Aldrich with a smile. "But, oh, young Aristocrats, now _your_ job comes in. First, how do you handle the actions of your ambitious and brilliant vassal Lord Howard? Second, sooner or later, Neville's favorite foods will be ascertained. We'll need new dragon-watching activities to soothe the public. Third, there is _another_ source of _muttering_ and _unrest_ in the kingdom – for further news included," Aldrich lowered his voice to emphasize the gravity of the situation, "that the vast and important domain of Bielenfeld – larger than any other _two _domains combined – _only got one dragon._ No other domain has been so _slighted! _Gratz got _four!_ It's an _insult!_"

Trenton looked smug, and looked to his father for confirmation. A highly amused Brendan nodded – _yup, four alright… and they're none too happy about it back home._

Dietrich looked outraged. "_Clearly_ we need to lure one of Gratz' dragons away. Unless… how many do Spitzweg and Wincott have?"

"Two each," said Aldrich. "One for their biggest city, another for the Lord's castle." It was a hint. Bielenfeld had only the one city, Castletown, with the ancient stone fortress of the von Bielenfelds rising in its center. Most domains had largest city and domain seat in separate locations. Gratz had dragons for busy Gratzport on the Donza, Brendan's seat at Gratzberg, and two patrolling the long Trondheim border. "Walde has five," he allowed.

"No, Walde's too far. Easier to steal a dragon from Gratz. Or, maybe we could just ask great-grandnymph Tariel for another?" suggested Dietrich.

Aldrich laughed and hugged him. "Diet – you're supposed to be advising me as _domain ruler_ here. Even overfed dragons named Neville are a danger to the public. We don't really want more dragons. We're just trying to make them entertaining. OK?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Dietrich said sheepishly.

Trenton suggested solemnly, "I think we should eat dessert and give ourselves time to think this over."

"Nice one, Trenton! But not until after Lords' lesson."

"Well," said Trenton, "we could tell Tariel there is racial unrest in Tarkenburg." Tarkenburg was the largest plantation and town on the other side of the Donza River from Castletown. "That'd be cool, then you could compete your dragons! Neville versus what's-its-name!"

Brendan laughed. "Not bad. I can see it now, nighttime fireworks across the river, portly Neville spouting flaming spicebread crumbs!"

"If you could get them to fight," allowed Aldrich. "I might feel… honor-bound… to _ask_ Squire Tarkenburg first if he actually _wanted_ a dragon scaring his populace," he said to gently refocus them toward _don't want more dragons_. Greta raised a hand shyly, not sure if she was allowed to butt in. "Greta! You have an idea?"

"A _romance,_" she said. "Dragon _socials_. We invite each of the other dragons to come visit lonely Neville. We give them romantic deluxe suppers on the castetop, with musicians. We decorate the rooftop with flowers. We help Neville find a mate!"

"That's brilliant, Greta!" said Manfred. "I could send a call for proposals to the Institute – how to maximize Neville's chances."

"Rotating honors, which plantation provides the musicians and dessert," offered Friedrich.

"A lottery, which dragon is invited next," suggested Brendan. "Get the more worried domains feeling better about their dragons. And lets Bielenfeld gloat about having one dragon instead of feeling, um, under-feared."

"Thanks, Bren," Aldrich commented wryly.

"Any time, Rick."

"Dragons do socialize, don't they, Conrad?" inquired Wolfram, hugging Yuuri's arms around himself in delight.

"I believe so," agreed Conrad.

"Tariel would approve," said Yuuri. "Helps calm the populace throughout Shin Makoku by publicizing Bielenfeld's good dragon relations."

"Well, this beats any ideas I had. I salute you, Greta!" said Aldrich, with a seated bow. "Alright, then. To wrap up, let's review my three problems. First, this maintains my leadership over Lord Howard –"

"How's it do that?" interrupted Trenton.

"If you can't beat him, join him," explained Brendan. "Lord Howard made a brilliant start. As his liege lord, you've come up with a way to appreciate and further his excellent beginning. You don't have to upstage him – just follow through."

Aldrich nodded, and continued his summary. "Second, we have a more lasting entertainment. And third, we do it by _using_ the competitive urge to have as many dragons as everybody else got. Perfect solution! Thank you ladies and gentlemen, Lords' lesson problem solved!"

"Time for dessert!" chimed Dietrich and Trenton.

oOo

The Bielenfeld dragon socials were a major hit – Greta's idea did much to calm the alarmed public all over Shin Makoku. The dragons vastly enjoyed their catered suppers on the flower bedecked roof of Castle Bielenfeld, dining on choicest Gratz beef and Bielenfeld produce, serenaded by plantation bands. Castletown enjoyed an increase in tourist revenue, as people from other domains came to watch the spectacle and supply their own bands and local delicacies, when their dragons had their turn wooing the famously lonely Neville.

The original Neville herself, an elderly great-grandmother dragon, was assigned to Castletown because Tariel knew Bielenfeld – no effort would be required. But this grand-dame of dragons did feel rather sorry for one of her grandsons, who'd had terrible luck in the mating game. They quietly swapped places, so that all this effort wouldn't be wasted on her. The von Bielenfelds knew about the switched Neville, but no one else caught on.

All twenty-nine other dragons came to "court" Neville (half were male, of course, and half the females close relatives), before Neville announced through Tariel that he _had_ rather set his heart on someone – a brave lady dragon stationed on the dangerous Krist-Trondheim frontier, dubbed _'Elspeth'_ by her locals. Tariel persuaded Elspeth to trade into the truly boring Gratzport post, to the cheers of a nation.

Nobody knows whether Neville and Elspeth_ really_ hit it off. But the popular stories of this time always detail their great romance. Nobody associated the names _'Tariel'_ or _'Aldrich'_, or even _'trolls'_, with this epoch-making period. It went down in history simply as the Dragon Insurrection.

oOo

_Thanks for reading! I really appreciate people taking the time to review. _

_Please review? Pretty please?_


	9. Dearly Departed

Kyou Kara Maou : The Trouble With Trolls

Summary: Wolfram's attempt to bypass Maou Wedding Curse with a small family ceremony, backfires when an uninvited relative arrives - the Troll Mother.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Chapter 9 : Dearly Departed

The next day, Wolfram and Manfred fell in with Yuuri and Conrad as they walked back from baseball practice, to attend a family meeting called by Tariel. The tiny tyrant who now ruled Shin Makoku through his dragons, gave few details on the agenda – just that all his local descendants, plus Yuuri, should attend, but no children younger than Efram. Tariel's descendants via his late daughter Emeraude included Elliott von Wincott and Cecilie, and thus Gwendal and Conrad, as well as the ruling family of the von Bielenfelds via Friedrich – Aldrich, Manfred, and his sons Wolfram and Efram.

As they neared the meeting room door, something about the mood made them pause to look at Aldrich and the von Gratz brothers, holding a low-voiced conversation some ways down the hall. Normally the quarter-troll Aldrich gave the impression of being large, especially in Bielenfeld's bright blue, surrounded by his compact von Bielenfeld kinsmen. But he wasn't actually any taller than Conrad – just unusually broad in the shoulders and chest. But with only one arm, he didn't get much upper-body exercise. Bracketed by the taller, even broader, muscle-bound Adelbert and Brendan, he almost looked slight. Which was an odd thing to suddenly notice. One saw Aldrich with his younger von Gratz cousins all the time, especially Brendan.

_"You son of a –" _exploded Adelbert. He grabbed Aldrich by the bejeweled ruffles at his neck and slammed him into the wall, holding him pinned, fist holding up Aldrich's chin and cutting off his windpipe.

"Get off him, Bert!" yelled Brendan, arms folded furiously next to them.

Manfred and Conrad strode toward them. "Not exactly sporting, pinning a one-armed man to a wall, Bert," Manfred observed coldly to his oldest friend. "_Walk. Away_."

_"Not until he –"_

Conrad drew steel and laid it on Adelbert's neck. _"Walk. Away. Adelbert von Gratz. _That is an order from your liege lord." In Gratz, Brendan had offered Adelbert and his half-human daughter Frieda nothing but the lonely freedom of the far mountain rangelands. Conrad, the new Aristocrat Lord Weller, with a mandate to handle the humans and half-humans within the realm, and coordinate police dealings internationally, was the one who offered suitable work for Adelbert to return home with.

Adelbert glared at Aldrich a few moments more, then slammed his head into the wall once more before letting go. "This isn't over, Aldrich," he promised as he finally walked away. Aldrich took a step forward when released, revealing a hole in the wall over a foot wide.

"It _is_ over," ordered Conrad. "I'll be looking for you after this meeting for a _full _explanation, Adelbert." Adelbert just kept walking. Conrad turned to Aldrich and bowed formally. "I apologize for my liege man's outburst of insanity, Lord Bielenfeld. I trust you are unharmed?"

Aldrich stared stone-faced after Adelbert another moment, then got his face back in order. He smiled at Conrad, one side of his mouth turning up, eyebrows sloping more steeply, and huge green eyes narrowing – Aldrich's unique variation on the evil green-eyed demon smile. "Not your fault, of course, Lord Weller. Thank you for your assistance. Your man's already been killed and revived by von Bielenfelds once this week. Bad for one's health to make a habit of it." He inspected his ruffles briefly, then ripped them off with a savage jerk and stuffed them into a pocket. He headed for the meeting door.

Brendan blocked his way, arms crossed. "My brother's an idiot and a hot-head," he said, his face inches from Aldrich's. "I am neither. I _will_ be joining your meeting. And I _will_ get answers. Aldrich. You owe me that."

"Fine," said Aldrich, smiling harder, and walked around Brendan. He stopped, blocking the doorway, and added, "But if your brother lays a hand on Efram or Wolfram," he turned and met Brendan's eye, "I'll kill him."

Brendan held his eye and nodded slowly. "Fair enough. I'll help."

"Me three," concurred Conrad. "I trust this will _all_ be explained inside, so… Shall we, gentlemen?"

Yuuri hung back, to ask Wolfram, "Ah… what just happened?"

Wolfram didn't meet his eye, just indicated the room with a nod, and went in. What with comings and goings and dragons in the land, Wolfram had found it easy to be vague with Yuuri on what had happened in the Fens. The farther it receded from him… the uglier it looked.

oOo

"We make new peace between demon and dwindling races," began Tariel when the room settled. "But we keep secrets from each other in our family. It is time to stop that." He held Friedrich's eye a moment, who nodded assent. "First, this man is not my kin." The slight blond wood nymph indicated Brendan.

"I invited him, Tariel," Aldrich oversimplified. "His father Adeldan von Gratz was killed in the Krist Fens. He seeks answers. Discussing that… is on my agenda for this meeting."

Tariel nodded, looking calmly at Brendan. "Then we discuss that first. And then, I ask you to leave, son of Adeldan von Gratz."

Brendan acknowledged this without agreement. Efram had joked about seeing Brendan in a rage, but he hadn't had long to wait to see the real thing. The young man's self-control was flawless. Which made his rage all the scarier.

"I'll start," offered Friedrich. Tariel nodded. "Brendan, you know how I came to inherit Bielenfeld, though not everyone here does, and you don't know all of it. I was third son of the previous ruling Lord, Theophilus von Bielenfeld. The Moron and I weren't close. I ran off at sixty with a noble's daughter, took up healing at the Institute. I had little to do with my father or the rule of Bielenfeld for centuries. Then one day my father had a party. He ordered me to babysit for my sisters Sophie and Phoebe, and my grandson Wolfred, since I refused to attend.

Friedrich leaned forward, elbows on his knees, almost curling into a ball as he sat. "Over a hundred people _died_ at that party, my wife and son Wolfgang among them. The day I inherited Bielenfeld… _All_ of Bielenfeld – the domain, seven family plantations whose owners were gone, three surviving children under age twenty." He paused, scowling in a rage grown bitter cold. "And a _book_. Our family's treasured secret _book_ – the von Bielenfeld Empiricist's Bible. The _Moron_ made sure _that_ survived. _It_ was shielded and swathed to protect it from _anything_, though he killed my entire family, save the small children who were with me."

Brendan, eyes narrowed, said softly, "I was aware of … most of that, uncle. That's how you came to raise my mother and Manfred's parents. Are you saying what happened to my father in the Krist Fens, was … _that? _That _what?_ I thought there was a fire or something."

"I'll take it, Chichi," murmured Aldrich. "Aunt Sophie wouldn't have told you about the Empiricist's Bible, Brendan. Nor what… the Moron… was trying to do that day. They never knew.

"Efram," Aldrich continued, "you noticed I'm familiar with Igor von Krist's work, _Besting Beasts_. The majutsu theory Igor was developing in that book was for the sole purpose of wholesale genocide of the other Mazoku races. He wanted to know how Shinou killed the trolls and centaurs and the rest, so he could finish the job." He paused, as Efram looked at him in horror. "All of the spell overrides I tried to suggest you not use… Igor developed a framework for unleashing that scale of destructive power, selectively. By Mazoku race."

"Igor was a _theoreticist_, Efram," Manfred took up the tale. "He published this framework, and – _hah!_ – it sits it libraries all over the land, used as a children's _picture book_. But you know how many spells are encoded in those tables – thousands. It's all just theory until it's proven. Igor never met a quarter of those races, nor tried even one percent of the spells. _We_," he nodded to von Wincott, "are the empiricists. The von Wincotts do potions and the von Bielenfelds do majutsu. We don't publish _anything_ until we're satisfied. Even then… we only tell the world if the world would be a better place for it. That work of the von Bielenfeld men, is the Empiricist's Bible. Theophilus – the Moron – was trying to prove that he'd mastered Igor's central theory, that he could unleash Shinou's power at will."

Efram looked daunted, leaning forward to hug his knees like Friedrich. His mother, Dionne Zarelle, was also a Krist majustsu theorist, a professor of majutsu defense at the Bielenfeld Institute. He hadn't considered the contribution of those who _proved_ the theories. And to prove that a Mazoku could wield _Shinou's_ power…!

"That's what the party was for," said Friedrich. "His _demonstration_. He invited all those people to see his triumph, the _egocentric moron!_ I wrote back to him, told him it was too risky. His preliminary experiments left unanswered questions, _dangerous_ questions. I begged him to do further controlled experiments, establish safeguards. To hold a victory party – was insane! He was so damned sure of himself, he pasted my letter right into the bible with his refutation. Pointed out my mistakes, my cowardly caution. _That_ was his farewell to me. But in keeping with family tradition, he left up-to-date farewell letters wrapped in the Empiricist's Bible for the rest of his family. They're still there. I wasn't able to deliver a single one. The _egotistical moron_ killed _every single addressee_."

"Can I… see this book?" asked Efram timidly.

"Not until you make your century," replied Manfred.

"Hypocrite," said Aldrich. "Efram, your father and myself were the last people who experimented to find out where my grandfather went wrong, when Manfred was Wolfram's age – not yet a century."

Manfred snorted. "So I know whereof I speak. You were a hundred fifty, Aldrich. What was _your_ excuse?" He looked wryly at Efram, and answered his own question. "Neither of us happened to care whether we lived or died that day."

"Chichi and I talked about it for years, ever since I made my century and studied the book," said Aldrich. "We had theories, but… never really wanted to test them. But Manfred and I…"

"Were both suicidal," reiterated Friedrich. "This suicidal streak is key to understanding this story, Efram." Friedrich tone made clear what he thought of their experimental procedures, or lack thereof. "Their letters were quite touching, though, especially the ones to Cecilie and Wolfram and Glynda. I had plenty of time to read them after I brought them back from the dead the second time. Or was it the third?"

"Um, I dunno," admitted Aldrich, chuckling. "What was the order again? The first attempt was the out of control fireball that burned down all your barns, wasn't it, Manfred? So I healed Manfred's third degree burns… And we made an adjustment."

Manfred grinned evilly. "They were my _mother's_ barns at the time. Yeah, then it was my turn, and that one made the world disappear – only it turns out we were inside a ball of light so bright we couldn't see anything outside. Really scared the farmers."

"But neither of us was_ injured_ that time, so we were improving," said Aldrich, clearly getting back into the warped spirit of adventure of that long-ago day. "So we made another adjustment –"

"No, Aldrich," Manfred, in a similarly dark joyful mood, corrected him. "Next we decided to check for _repeatability_. We did exactly the same thing, but instead of putting ourselves inside a ball of light, it summoned that tornado that picked up a few dozen pigs and dumped them in the manor house flower patch. You always forget that one." He grinned his very most evil green-eyed demon smile at Aldrich. Who grinned back.

Friedrich had his face half-covered by one hand, but glared out greenly from the other side. He murmured, "The parents' age-old curse. May you two grow to have children _Just. Like. You._"

"And to think you raised _six _of us, counting Manfred. _Lucky_ Chichi," said Aldrich, with a delighted grin reminiscent of his troll childishness, but with deepest black humor added. "So – that was a little disheartening."

"Right, we weren't dead yet," said Manfred. "And we were trying _ever_ so hard. I think next we tried to repeat the exact same thing, to make sure we had the pattern right."

"And we _did!_" agreed Aldrich. "That was the first time you died, Manfred, wasn't it? A geyser opened up beneath you, and hurtled you fifty feet into the air. You were pretty scalded. Well, and dead from the broken neck."

"That pattern being," Elliott von Wincott suggested timorously, "that you produced catastrophic, uncontrolled, unpredictable results each time?"

"Exactly!" agreed Manfred. "So then we –"

"_Enough!"_ cut in Friedrich. "It was bad enough having to read the sorry tale while I waited for you two idiots to regain consciousness. We don't need to rehash the gory details." He glared at Aldrich and Manfred. "The farmfolk had the sense to run away, and send someone to fetch me to bring them under control. They were both passed out and I left them that way while I read what they'd been doing –"

"He left us lying unconscious in the mud, in the pouring rain," Manfred confided to Efram. "_He_ had a giant umbrella and a little writing table with tea service and the _book_."

"I'm not the one who conjured the typhoon," countered Friedrich.

Aldrich also looked sadly at Efram, mock-pleading for sympathy. "He was composing a new experimental protocol, to test his conclusions based on Manfred and my findings. He made us get up and do more experiments. Chichi was mean to us."

"Richly deserved," breathed von Wincott. Conrad and his mother both had hands over their mouths and eyebrows scraping their hairlines. Gwendal wore a fairly standard scowl. Wolfram and Efram looked… demonically amused. Brendan was still waiting for his answers.

"What we proved that day," summarized Friedrich, "was an effect I refer to as _resonances_. Igor's override spells _might_ be controllable if carried out with only pure-bloods within the effective radius. We haven't let any pure-bloods read the book, so we don't know. We decided to stop killing each other and the livestock for the day, before we could determine the effective radius. With mixed bloods – which includes every Mazoku of high enough power levels to use these spells – resonant effects, sort of like harmonics, arise, that cannot be predicted."

"Although," said Aldrich sourly, "the anti-troll spells generally do kill trolls. Just – not controllably. Efram, you were just as likely to get a typhoon or a geyser or… Shinou knows, maybe a sudden stampede of flying trees. Some effects would hurt only the trolls, others would have killed everyone on the field. It's not your fault, Efram. You counter-attacked an assailant who might have killed Wolfram. The spell you chose… worked."

Efram lowered his eyes. Still hugging his knees, he nodded slowly.

Aldrich turned to Brendan. "So. That's how your father died."

"Your _father?_" cried Wolfram. _"What?"_

"There was a blond half-troll among the group you killed," said Brendan. "My father, Adeldan von Gratz." Brendan had no sympathy for the troll-killers at the moment. He turned to Aldrich. "But that's not all, Aldrich. _Is it._ You _knew_ my father was alive, and you _didn't tell me._ Explain yourself. _Cousin_."

Aldrich studied his hand a few moments before answering quietly. "I didn't know – never knew – for sure. I didn't even suspect until three years ago. Brendan… I believed I was an eighth troll, and you and Adelbert as well. Until Franklin told me, and then all the structure of lies that supported _that_ lie, just… fell apart. Then it was clear that your father was a half-troll… It's not likely he'd have died of breeding."

"But you didn't tell me," Brendan accused.

"I bloody well wish I _had_," Aldrich vented. "Instead I told _Glynda_ I wanted a divorce, that her mental illness had gotten too severe, that Lord Wincott and I agreed it was best for her to divorce and go back to Wincott. And I told _her_ I was a quarter troll, in the same conversation. The night she committed suicide, after Gwendal's men locked her in the dungeons to cool off, for disturbing the peace. And, _Dietrich_ was eavesdropping on the whole damned thing."

"Oh, my –" Brendan gasped in horror. "Aldrich…"

Tears were running down Aldrich's face. "That's why. I thought you'd probably accept me even if you knew, that Chichi and Manfred and Elliott would, and… but… I just chose not… to test it. And you… Brendan, when your father walked out on you, and Adelbert couldn't be bothered to come back and rule the domain, you… _Damn._ To re-open those wounds, for _nothing_. That you and Adelbert were quarter trolls – I hinted to you about that, that there was doubt. There's a letter to you with my papers, in case I… didn't succeed this week. You needed to know that. But that your father might be alive… Hell, he made his choice. I understand it. But I'd never _forgive_ him for it."

"Not your choice to make," said Brendan softly. "Though… I understand."

"Right," said Aldrich, wiping his face on his torn fragments of shirt ruffle. "And I apologize abjectly. You've grown into a fine man, Brendan von Gratz. I trust and treasure you as a friend, and try to treat you as an equal. But sometimes… the old habit of the elder cousin protecting the baby cousin kicks in, and… I fail to treat you with the respect you deserve as the man you've become. I'm truly sorry, and I hope you'll find a way to forgive me."

Brendan got up and walked over to him, holding out a hand. Aldrich stood and shook hands with him. Brendan said, "Understood, forgiven, and put behind us." He pulled Aldrich into an embrace over their joined hands.

"Bren, I'm sorry for your loss," said Aldrich. "_Again_. To lose him once was bad enough."

Brendan nodded and pulled away. "Thank you. And Rick – talk to me and tell me what I need to know. Don't protect me that way, but… I'm still lucky to have my big cousin to look up to, and to look after me."

Aldrich chuckled. "Even though your big cousin's been smaller than you for some time now."

"You _have_ shrunk, especially these scrawny wings of yours," agreed Brendan, playfully demonstrating he could bracket Aldrich's upper arms between thumb and middle finger of his massive hands. Aldrich jabbed him with an elbow.

"So," said Aldrich, "now you've had a taste of our dark and nymphy secrets, are you overwhelmed by curiosity to stay and hear even _worse?_ Or are you willing to leave now and let us deal with the darker family secrets without you?"

_"Gah!"_ replied Brendan. "I leave it on your honor to tell me anything I really need to know. It's a pity you'll never get Grandfather-the-Moron's ugly genie back into its bottle. Though, the spells were actually Igor von Krist's monstrous gift to posterity."

There was a fair bit of milling around as everyone offered condolences on the death of Brendan's father. Brendan made a point of shaking hands with Wolfram and Efram. He said there was nothing to forgive them for – they killed his father in self-defense. He just needed to get the whole story before he could lay it to rest.

oOo

Once Brendan left, Tariel resumed control of the meeting. "There are other secrets. Garena?"

"What?" replied Garena defensively. The masculine half-nymph was getting more expressive as he spent time among his demon kin. He was holding his physique fairly close in size and build to Friedrich's now.

"Talk to Manfred."

Garena balked. Manfred sat forward, and demanded, "Yeah. _Out _with it already. You've been glaring and scowling at me, and criticizing my _sons_, ever since you got here. What is your _problem_ with me, Uncle Garena?"

Garena glared back at him. "I'm not your _uncle_. I'm your _father_."

"You... You_ what?_" Manfred gaped a moment, then scowled at him harder. "You – I'm the product of _incest_ between you and your own _half-sister?!"_

"No. My great-nephew, Wolfred. He is… was…" Garena seemed to have an easier time grasping time tenses than the full wood nymph, but wasn't very fluent. "Wolfred was _both_, like Tariel. I am only male. You are very demon-like, so after you sprout, Wolfred brought you back to Bielenfeld to raise."

"He didn't really mean _'sprout'_, did he?" Aldrich quietly asked his father, in an aside. Friedrich made a gesture suggesting Aldrich let the pageant unfold.

"But you're –" began Efram, alternately addressing Garena and Manfred. "Chichiue, I've known Garena all my life. He's… my mother's grandfather. Aren't you?"

"Yes. You and Bertram are a lot wood nymph. And Manfred and Wolfram," replied Garena. "This is why we tell you now." He clearly regretted the necessity. "Manfred, I loved Wolfred. Neither of us liked your mother much."

Friedrich coughed. "_Serious _understatement… Manfred… this was news to me, too. Not that your mother wasn't your mother – I knew that. But you're obviously not _only_ my great-grandson on the _'Emeraude look'_ side, as every wag in Bielenfeld has seen fit to comment along the way. Of course, they assumed you were _my_ son by my own half-sister, and that I married Phoebe off to Wolfred to cover it up. I prefer the truth, but. Telling the world that Wolfred was your mother instead of your father, is not really in the family's best interests. All Wolfred said was that you were his child. Then, we married him to Phoebe to raise this… unexplained illegitimate son who looked more like _my_ son."

"You _knew_ Phoebe wasn't my mother," he accused Aldrich.

"Well, Manfred," said Aldrich, "knowing Wolfred, we couldn't figure out _where_ you came from. Wolfred… wasn't just a _little_ bit gay."

Gwendal chuckled. "You know, his infamous recommendation is still tacked to the wall in von Dienst's office, Aldrich. The one he wrote to my father when you entered the military. _'How Not to Write a Letter of Recommendation'_ is scribbled beneath it."

_"Gah!"_ replied Aldrich in dismay. "General Lord Walde's subtitle read _'How to Destroy a Man's Career'_." At Wolfram and Efram's urging, he explained, "_Wolfred_ wrote my letter of recommendation." Wolfred was about forty-five years Aldrich's senior, and Wolfred stood in _loco_ – _very_ loco – big brother in Aldrich's youth. Aldrich easily mimicked Wolfred's over-the-top flaming queen mannerisms and tone to recite:

"'_I commend for your consideration my darling sweet Uncle Aldrich. Were you in need of a nursery school officer, why today is your lucky day! His is a healing, nurturing soul, which would never do anyone a harm, bathing everyone round him in his loving glow. Indeed, the complaints you've suffered on account of my preferring only men would trouble you not at all with my dear uncle, who loves men, women, goblins, and ducks equally, and with vast appreciation.'"_

Most of the men were chuckling at this joke they'd heard – and re-heard – many times. Wolfram was looking at Aldrich in horror. _This was his recommendation to become a military officer? And I thought I had it bad, winning my commission in a beauty pageant…_

Friedrich, with a green-eyed grin of near radioactive intensity, said, "I _warned_ you not to trifle with Wolfred's costume collection, Aldrich. I remember the time Phoebe _'borrowed'_ some fishnet stockings and stilletto heels. He drugged her, shaved her bald as a billiard ball – _everywhere_ – and left the hair in the bed so she'd think all her hair had fallen out overnight. Where did you buy such _nice_ children, Elliott?"

Garena shook his head in dismay. "This is _'father'_?"

Friedrich shot his brother a glance of unveiled contempt. "You abandon your son, then _dare_ to criticize me and _him_ for how he turned out? _You_ didn't even _try_."

Tariel stepped in. "Garena, parent starts child, guides child, but… Can never control child. Only nudge. They are born who they are. If you love, you love who they _are._ Changing Bertram's diaper while he yells '_Chu-chu!'_ is _easy_ part," he chided. Garena looked away, and nodded acceptance.

"Ducks?" Efram asked. "What… do you do with a duck? Goblins?"

Manfred grinned at Efram. He rather liked his children – liked them a _lot_ – regardless of Garena's attitude.

"Never _mind,_ Efram," said Aldrich firmly. "Then, after the most mystifying interview of my life with General von Walde, Wolfred takes me for a nude debut at the Blood Pledge Castle communal baths, and introduces me to _all_ of his friends. Who invented astonishing details regarding my experience with goblin bath attendents in Trondheim. Not to mention the _ducks_."

"Well, it was nice of him to help you make _friends_ here in Shin Makoku," offered Friedrich viciously.

"Oh, indeed, my dance card was full for weeks," replied Aldrich sourly. "And only two of them had lady ducks awaiting us in their quarters after dinner. Chichi, you were far too lenient with that nut-job – you were always _laughing_ too hard to punish him!" Friedrich conceded the point with a wave of his hand, still chuckling. "_Anyway._ The point _was,_ Manfred. You were too young to realize just how _wrong_ a picture it was, Wolfred with_ any_ woman, let alone Aunt Phoebe."

Manfred tried to consider this, but his mind drifted astray again. "You know, Greta brought home quite a lot of goblins. Good bath-house attendants, eh?"

Aldrich glared at him. "Yes, ever so accommodating. I don't _do_ the bath-house scene anymore, Manfred. _Anyway. _We _digress._ Why do you bring up Manfred's parentage, Garena? Tariel?"

"Several reasons," said Tariel. "Garena must know his family better. And family know him. Also, you learn more about wood nymph while we are here. You should know true level of wood nymph of everybody, not silly story. Manfred is my son's son, not…?"

"Great-great-grandson," Friedrich supplied – even he had to think about it to get it right. "Manfred is five sixteenths wood nymph, not one sixteenth as he thought – over a quarter. Cecilie is… one-eighth, so Wolfram is… nearly a quarter. But Efram and Bertram are… oh, also nearly a quarter. Conrad and Gwendal would be one sixteenth. And Dietrich… just over an eighth."

Tariel nodded emphatically. "This is important. Manfred does not know he is so much wood nymph. He does not know he looks for wood nymph. But his body does. He has many lovers. He knows a few have pretty eyes, knows Cecilie is distant relative, does not seem important. But his body has four children, _each_ with different part wood nymph. His head appreciates many people. His body falls in love with wood nymph. Same for Garena. Same for Aldrich. Less strong for Cecilie, but still she marries man who everyone says is wrong. This is very strong pull."

"Four?" inquired Friedrich and Cecilie. They were aware of a fourth baby basket on Manfred's dining room wall. This missing fourth child's part wood nymph mother was an extra unexplained thing.

"Not the point," Tariel stifled them. "The point is, there are many demons. They see dwindling race and say _'incest'_ everywhere. But the pull of one's own kind is strong. Yuuri Maou especially, please understand. There are things like this about the dwindling races that you cannot fight, because you fight survival. You cannot make survival instinct a crime, or only criminals survive. You _make_ loving parents into hating Tanyas.

"Wood nymph talk to many more races than demons. Some cannot speak to demons. Others hide. Others do not trust, even hate. Mistakes were made. Narrow minds and judgments and murders. So this group – us – speak for many races at this conference, who need our help to speak. Garena and Friedrich and I can speak to any race. Conrad and Gwendal can only speak standard language, but because you are wood nymph, my family, fearful races speak through you, trust you."

"Any race?" asked Friedrich. "Can I take the fire Mazoku races?"

"All but not dragons," replied Tariel, in the closest thing to a smile they'd seen on him yet. "I coordinate dragons."

"Can't I learn to talk to dragons?" wheedled Friedrich. It was funny to watch this nearly 800 year old patriarch wheedling his _'mother'_, who appeared as a human 10 year old boy.

"Alright," conceded Tariel. "You talk to dragons. Over next few days, Garena and I teach assignments, races to represent. Over next few weeks, you learn the people you help speak." Aldrich and Gwendal looked poised to say something. "But not you two. Both too busy, especially Aldrich with trolls."

"Though I already failed with the trolls," Aldrich said sadly.

"_Not. Failed,"_ Tariel asserted. "Last week, Garena and I see no way to peace. No need for dragon insurrection, no way to help. Aldrich and Yuuri together change everything. And _we_ do not solve trolls. _You_ do. We only make… _'protected garden where trust can sprout'_. Even so, with dragons flying to Trondheim, Aldrich, _Tanya would not yield_. Fighting dragons is hard, but trolls fight well. She has more trolls than you know. If she fights, she can still win, half of ways. To a troll, that is good fight. _You_ make her not fight, Aldrich, with Yuuri. Not failed. You just _begin_."

"But… how? How did we make her not fight?" asked Yuuri.

Tariel tried to answer exactly, since it was important input. "First night she comes, you talk. Suddenly one way in a hundred to peace – not very good chance, but never before we see _any_ chance. That afternoon you talk to each other, not Tanya. Now five ways in a hundred. Garena and I think of ways to help, chances grow to ten ways in a hundred. That night you make Tanya very angry, very scared. Grows to twenty-five ways in a hundred. Grew to fifty ways by time Yuuri surrenders. When Tanya surrenders, maybe eighty ways."

"And now?"

"Still eighty. Twenty ways go very bad, five all demons killed or made slaves." She shrugged – these were good odds, especially for a wood nymph who could see ahead and continue adjusting the path. "So we work hard for peace."

"Agreed!" said Yuuri, echoed by everyone else.

"Now, most leave room. We talk to you more later. Now I talk to Aldrich and Wolfram alone." Except for the invited, most made to leave, but Manfred and Friedrich stayed rooted. Tariel looked at Friedrich. "Aldrich is grown man. He talks to you later if he wants to, about what he wants to, when he wants to. Same for Wolfram."

"It's alright, Chichi," said Aldrich. Wolfram nodded to Manfred as well. Their fathers reluctantly left, pulling Yuuri with them, who'd paused at the door, uncertain.

When they were gone, Tariel said, "You do maryoku signatures? Like…" He showed a green flame willow tree in his hand briefly.

Aldrich and Wolfram conjured up their signatures, an artfully wind-carved cypress tree and a Beautiful Wolfram flower, both in the fire healer's signature orange flame with a blue core.

Tariel nodded. "No surprise they are both plants. But you are taught wrong for you. Garena should also check Manfred. If he fix that mistake," he pointed to something in Wolfram's blossom, "he is more powerful healer.

"Aldrich, relax. Wolfram, make it bigger." Tariel stuck his hands into Wolfram's fire flower, and with his green fire, _rearranged_ Wolfram's signature. It was the strangest sensation – as though by manipulating the fire, he was reaching inside Wolfram to rearrange his core from which the fire sprang. When Tariel removed his hands, the flame was a little different, the blues moved within the orange, and a green verge appeared between orange and blue. Wolfram could feel the difference. It wasn't something he could quite put into words, but the result was that his control and focus seemed clearer, more powerful.

Tariel nodded in satisfaction. "_This_ is new to me.You are strong with animals."

"I love animals, always have," agreed Wolfram.

"Not what I mean. You are fire healer, yes. But you are special with animals. Your maryoku tells you what they need. You notice this?"

"No… Well… I mean I thought it was Yuuri and other people around me, who knew what the animals needed. But…"

"It is you. Because of this, you can speak to more races than Manfred or Aldrich, even though you are less wood nymph. You get harder assignments."

"Can _I_ talk to dragons, too?"

Tariel shook his head in mild amusement. "Von Bielenfelds anddragons. Yes, you can talk to dragons, too. But_ I_ coordinate dragons. Only I.

"Now Aldrich, make big signature for me." He did, and Tariel smiled broadly. "_This_ is not new to me." Again he reached into the fire, but instead of a fine adjustment, Tariel turned the signature completely inside out, so the orange formed the wood of the tree, a wide band of green the leaves, and blue danced a halo around the edges. "_You_ are a plant person. Like me. You know this."

Aldrich laughed. His oasis was his garden at Castle Bielenfeld, his delight his personal potato plantation. Then, like Wolfram, he felt the change in himself. His maryoku had not simply gotten a power boost. It felt detangled, now running clear and strong and sure. "So I'm still not that great a fire healer, except for plants?"

"You are much better at both. You grow back your arm tonight. And healing plants is _good_. Especially if you want children.

"I ask you to stay in private because this is personal. You know I am both – male, but _'mother'_ of three von Bielenfelds. Theophilus and I worry maybe one of those three are both, like me, but none are. They just go both ways in which sex they pick – sometimes man, sometimes woman, very prefer wood nymph. I surprise when Wolfred and Wolfram and Aldrich are both. Like me."

Aldrich and Wolfram stared at him. They stared at each other. "Um… how?" Aldrich eventually managed to ask. "I can't turn myself into a woman like you do. Can I?" He looked distinctly unwilling to try it.

"I don't _turn into_ a woman. Is just appearance. Wood nymphs are tree spirits." Tariel shrugged. "Many trees, most flowers, are male and female. Aldrich knows this."

"Do you, um, have a womb?" Wolfram asked Aldrich. "I'm pretty sure Chichiue would have noticed if I did."

"No, and I'm _very_ sure he and Chichi would have mentioned it, even if I missed it somehow…"

"No womb. You are not women. But, you are part tree. You are female because you make _seeds_. Wolfred needs my help to grow Manfred, and not so strong – only one sprout. But Aldrich is good gardener. You can do this yourself and help others."

"So Garena _did_ mean to say _'when Manfred sprouted',_" Aldrich said faintly.

oOo

_Sorry, couldn't resist the temptation to make them able to bear their own children. Sorta. Heh. I reserve the right to change my mind for further stories…_

_Please review? Pretty please?_


	10. Loyal Opposition

Kyou Kara Maou : The Trouble With Trolls

Summary: Wolfram's attempt to bypass Maou Wedding Curse with a small family ceremony, backfires when an uninvited relative arrives - the Troll Mother.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Chapter 10 : Loyal Opposition

"Gwendal, be _reasonable,_" Aldrich was saying, as the two came into the dining hall for dinner. "All I'm asking is that we hold the meetings in Walde. I'd offer my conference facilities, but this meeting is von Bielenfeld heavy. But Blood Pledge Castle is far too small."

"I have Shin Makoku and Walde to run, and I do _not _need to give favors to the enemy," bit out Gwendal, harried and nasty. He scraped out his chair and grabbed a spork to stab something.

"_'Enemy'?_ So nice to see things getting back to normal," said Aldrich, seating himself politely, nodding to fellow diners. "Gwendal, we're at table. You could at least try some more social euphemism, like _'loyal opposition'_."

"Ah, Gwendal," said Yuuri, "I'd have to agree. Please don't call my friends and family _'enemy'_ at supper."

"Why is that man still our Chancellor?" muttered Brendan. "Aldrich, it's high time the _'loyal opposition'_ change that. He just wakes up looking to chew someone's head off over something pointless."

Wolfram cleared his throat. "Is there something I could help you with, Aldrich?"

"Well, apparently, young cousin," said Aldrich, with a false smile. "I hadn't thought to need a _representative_ to Shin Makoku when I'm _right here_, but... This is a conference. Months long. Aristocrats must attend, and must run their domains in the meantime. It's not like a three day meeting. I need ten rooms –"

_"Ten!"_ thundered Gwendal.

Even Conrad was looking sourly at Gwendal now. _Of course, about ten – a single man, with a child, a nanny for the child, a valet, rooms for secretary and scribe, office and meeting rooms… Aldrich's personally one of the wealthiest men in Shin Makoku, and Bielenfeld's treasury is richer than Shin Makoku's. What did you think, he'd stuff his entourage in pup tents?_

"- and most Aristocrats will need at least six rooms, most more," Aldrich continued. "I could rent a house in town for myself and the rest of the coalition –"

"Oh, that's fitting!" jeered Gwendal. "You separatists isolate yourselves even before the meetings begin!"

Wolfram raised a hand to suggest Gwendal back down. "Of course. We agree, that wouldn't be best for your coalition, or for the meeting as a whole, Aldrich." Gwendal jerked his head up to glare at Wolfram, who pursed his lips in response. "As I believe _both_ of you were just saying. We need to work together instead of splitting along party lines."

"Exactly," said Aldrich. "Castletown would love the conference income, but I'm concerned about the perception that Bielenfeld is controlling these meetings. Those with wood nymph ancestry will be acting as representatives for the less verbal races, and we're all descended from a von Bielenfeld."

Gwendal winced at the mention of conference income, which Walde could sorely use. He looked like he had belated misgivings about crossing Aldrich, but wasn't quite ready to admit it.

Brendan's comment about ousting Gwendal didn't appear to be a joke. "I prefer Bielenfeld," he said with finality. "Please pass the potatoes."

"Bielenfeld is more convenient for us," agreed Elliot von Wincott. "May I have the salad, please?"

Aldrich raised a hand in surrender. "The Bielenfeld conference facilities it is."

"It's at _Blood Pledge Castle_ –" began Gwendal.

Yuuri cut him off. "Thank you, Lord Aldrich. So, your conference facilities are large?"

"Yes, we hold two all-plantation meetings a year, plus the galas at Winterfair and Summerfair. And the castle is right downtown. It's only a ten minute walk to the royal pier, with plenty of nearby inns. I'm sure you'll find it comfortable, Sire."

Wolfram wondered whether Aldrich set Gwendal up. But Aldrich still appeared annoyed – likewise Brendan, von Wincott, and Conrad – which suggested otherwise. Wolfram was loyal to his brother, but… _Perhaps his brusque ways were more appropriate to a wartime Chancellor. In peacetime, next to Aldrich and von Wincott, he ends up looking childishly cranky. Hm…_

The Aristocrats had two basic parties – the federalists, favoring strong centralized solutions, and the autonomists, who upheld the sovereignty of the domains, and so tended to advance local, idiosyncratic solutions. Bielenfeld was a natural for the autonomists, with Gratz, Trondheim, and Krist its staunchest coalition allies. Walde, Wincott, Khrennikov, and Spitzweg were the firm federalists. Weller had greatly irked Gwendal by remaining a swing vote, more often swinging to the autonomist's side. Gwendal was impolitic enough to call the parties the _loyalists_ and the _separatists_. Wolfram wasn't prone to that mistake.

"Well, then," said Aldrich, "I'd best head home tomorrow to prepare for the meetings." He and Manfred both looked thoughtful and applied themselves to their food.

"But – my wedding!" said Wolfram. "Surely you're staying for our wedding the day after tomorrow?"

Aldrich looked at him blankly. "Oh! The wedding. You're still holding the wedding? Oh, Manfred, that reminds me – where'd you put the paperwork on them?"

"What paperwork?"

Aldrich laughed and shook his head. "Their _marriage contract,_ Manfred? I looked for it all over, and I keep forgetting to ask you where you filed it. I couldn't find yours and Cecilie's either."

"I thought you did Wolfram's contract. Friedrich, didn't you approve their marriage?"

Friedrich replied, "Wolfram only asked for my blessing. Aldrich's in charge of the marriage contracts. You of all people know _that_, Manfred." Friedrich gave Manfred a surprisingly evil green-eyed smile. "Ah, they're young and in love, Aldrich, let them get married without all that red tape."

"Chichi," said Aldrich, alarmed, "that's _mean._ Sire, you can't marry a von Bielenfeld without a contract. Ah… Manfred, you and Cecilie _did_ make up a contract. Didn't you? "

"Well…" said Cecilie, sheepishly.

"No," admitted Manfred.

Aldrich stared at them, but spoke to Yuuri. "Sire… if you marry a von Bielenfeld, without a contract saying otherwise, you _belong_ to him. Everything. All your property. Your children, either before or after the wedding. If you leave him, you leave with the shirt on your back and not even the freedom to marry again. Though he can remarry as he pleases. You lose _everything._" He turned to Wolfram. "Cousin… you need my permission to marry. I'm afraid I insist – that permission takes the form of my signature approving _a contract._ Please provide me a draft contract, and the name of Yuuri's advocate for further discussions. Sire, I recommend you seek _Lord Wincott's_ assistance – not one of Wolfram's close relatives. I'm sorry, but it's not possible for you to marry the day after tomorrow."

Lord Wincott nodded agreement and reassurance at Yuuri.

"But! You're abusing your powers!" wailed Wolfram.

Brendan and von Wincott shook their heads emphatically. "No," said Brendan. "Aldrich is paying Yuuri back a favor. A default von Bielenfeld marriage is a hell of a thing to do to a friend. Shame on you, Wolfram."

"Ah, Wolfram?" said Yuuri, looking a bit sour. "I believe I'll take these gentlemen's advice and speak to Lord Wincott about this marriage contract business."

"And… my contract?" asked Cecilie.

"Apparently you don't have one," said Aldrich. "Your marriage was approved by… my predecessor." Manfred had approved his own marriage, of course, during the year he ruled Bielenfeld before Aldrich.

"_But - !_"

"Lord Erick," Aldrich said, distracted by someone at the door, and rose from the table.

Teodor von Trondheim and a look-alike younger man in sunglasses, both in formal von Trondheim attire, stood at the dining room door, attended by a nervous guard. Lord Erick, just over a century and likely not full grown, was _taller_ than Ted. Wolfram hadn't seen him in a few decades – Erick rarely left Trondheim. He bowed stiffly toward Yuuri's seat, face unreadable, as Aldrich strode across the room. A smiling Yuuri made a move to rise and welcome his latest vassal. Wolfram grabbed his wrist in a vice-grip, urgently whispering, _"Wait! Let Aldrich handle it!"_ Conrad stomped on Yuuri's foot from his other side. Grimacing at the brothers, Yuuri settled back in his chair.

Brendan looked like he'd rather lick a banana slug than greet his potential new coalition partner Erick. Wolfram could read that easily. _They just turned into the pariah 'troll' coalition, and they can kiss Krist good-bye. If indeed Bielenfeld would tolerate alliance with traitorous Trondheim. Would Brendan? Aldrich's coalition may have just self-destructed…_ Though cousins from neighboring domains, and close in age, Wolfram had never heard that Erick and Brendan were friends.

"Lord Trondheim," Aldrich greeted Erick formally, with a bow. Gwendal hissed – Aldrich had addressed Erick as ruler of Trondheim, assuming his place among the Eleven Aristocrats, a point Gwendal by no means conceded. "May I offer you my condolences upon the death of your father, and congratulate you upon inheriting Trondheim." Aldrich offered his hand to clasp.

Erick bowed stiffly and returned the formal hand-clasp. "Is it to be so formal then between us, Lord Bielenfeld? I had hoped to seek your counsel as cousin and ally this night, before presenting myself to Yuuri Maou. I… did not realize you were dining together. My apologies for disrupting your meal, Sire."

Aldrich smiled warmly. "No, Erick. I sought only to give you your due."

Erick let his breath out explosively in relief, and turned the hand-clasp into an embrace. "Thank you, Aldrich. You are the first to do so – I shall treasure that always."

At this, Brendan looked thoughtfully at Wolfram. He was confirmed as Lord Gratz twenty-five years ago, in the wake of Adelbert's treason against Wolfram's mother and Shin Makoku. And before that, Adelbert had inherited Gratz upon Adeldan abdicating to join the trolls. Even Brendan's Uncle Friedrich Lord Bielenfeld hadn't bestirred himself down the Donza to attend, and his place looked mighty bare with only young Wolfram subbing in. Wolfram's words and actions that day on behalf of Bielenfeld, declaring to the nation that Bielenfeld still stood by Gratz, inspiring Maou Cecilie to do the same, forward looking to healing the rift, had meant the world to Brendan. Wolfram, recalling the same occasion, thoughtfully returned his gaze and nodded slightly.

"Sire, you'll have to excuse me from dinner," said Aldrich. "Brendan, you're welcome to join us, if you wish." _Nice simple invitation, no pressure,_ thought Wolfram.

Not Brendan, but Conrad rose first from the table to speak. "Lord Bielenfeld, I've been meaning to request admittance to your coalition. May I join you and Lord Trondheim this evening as well?" Wolfram looked at him in amazement – not only had Conrad also acknowledged Erick as a peer, but he'd repudiated Gwendal's party in the Eleven – at least, as Gwendal would see it. He glanced briefly at Gwendal to confirm that indeed their elder brother was turning purple with rage.

Aldrich looked to Erick for assent. Teodor whispered in Erick's ear. The young giant nodded, face impassive behind his sunglasses. Aldrich smiled warmly to Conrad, "We would be _delighted_ to find common cause, Lord Weller." So Brendan and Conrad left with Aldrich and Erick, and the autonomist coalition was reborn.

_Not the troll party. Rather, the champions of the minorities, the independents, the rights of the domains, the guardians against the tyrrany of the majority,_ thought Wolfram. _Huh. That fits. And at this conference… this is **their** day in the sun._ He almost wished he could join them, but as Yuuri's political advisor, it was his job to advance federal solutions. And, he suspected Aldrich would be the first to tell him so. Aldrich truly believed in _'loyal opposition'_ – that the best solution emerged from a dialogue between opposite approaches. _I hope I can help Yuuri see that, that Aldrich is as much his ally now as he was when he sat down beside him with Troll Mother. Even when – no, especially when – he offers up competing proposals to the Maou's._ Fortunately, Yuuri was quite good at seeing things like that.

oOo

Yuuri came to bed late, but Wolfram was still awake in the dark, and snuggled into his arms. "Did you have a good talk with Lord Wincott?" he asked.

Yuuri stiffened, certain this was a loaded question. _Yes, darling, I had a wonderful chat with Lord Wincott about the art of writing a marriage contract to protect my rights to my children and to divorce you, so you can't screw me over. It shouldn't take longer than half a year to complete negotiations. _"Ah…" he said.

_"Wimp!"_ replied Wolfram, then his soft husky bedroom voice returned. "It's alright, Yuuri. You've come a long way with my father's family since we met. I should have thought of that… Friedrich was happy to let you screw yourself over, that's his style. That Aldrich's actually looking out for your best interests – I think you've finally been accepted by the von Bielenfelds. And – I did screw up. I apologize."

Yuuri pursed his lips in the dark, and once pursed, decided to plant them on Wolfram's forehead. "Apology accepted… But, um, well, you didn't know, right?"

"Well… I _did_ know," admitted Wolfram. "When my parents didn't get married, Aldrich went through hell finding a way for Chichiue to adopt me without forcibly taking me away from Hahaue… it was a godawful mess. And it was the battle over their marriage contract, that got me born out of wedlock in the first place. I did know. I just… didn't want to think about us ever breaking up. That was unfair to you. I'm sorry."

Yuuri slid down the bed a bit to put their noses together. "Hey, Wolfram. Trust me a little more, OK? I love you. I'm not going anywhere. But an honest agreement, with clear terms, is good for everybody. People change, the _world_ changes. Dragons alight on rooftops, and you wake up in a different world than yesterday. People make mistakes, things are forgiven, other things aren't. Amidst all that noise and confusion, it's good to have a clear agreement to hold onto. Part of trust is saying what you expect. Trust me, love. I'm not writing a _divorce_ contract. I'm writing a _marriage_ contract. Because I want to be married to you as long as we both shall live." They shared a long, deep, lingering kiss.

Yuuri's tone changed to teasing to add, "Well, if we ever _get_ married, that is. This Maou Wedding Curse is a bit daunting. Perhaps we should just stay _engaged_ as long as we both shall live? I should ask von Wincott about writing an _engagement_ contract to govern the time between now and – _oof!_" Wolfram got him with a hard jab to the gut. "Well, you've got to admit, Wolfram – there's a _pattern_ to these weddings a lot like Manfred and Aldrich's suicidal majutsu experiments!" By the time Yuuri managed to get that sentence out, Wolfram had won the wrestling match and was straddling him, holding the black-haired man's wrists pinned above his head on the pillow.

"We._ Will. _Get._ Married,"_ asserted Wolfram.

"Yes, dear."

"We _will._"

"Yes, dear. I believe you." Yuuri tried to kiss him while being pinned beneath him. Wolfram dodged and teased, and finally relented for another long kiss, still holding Yuuri pinioned, then wandered his tongue along to Yuuri's ear and down the long muscle of his neck.

"Oh, hey," said Yuuri. "What did Tariel want to talk to you and Aldrich alone about?"

After a long pause, Wolfram said, "Majutsu stuff. My fire healing gift is… non-standard. It's technical, Yuuri – you wouldn't be interested."

_Now if that had been an **honest** answer, he would have objected to me bringing it up instead of enjoying his lovemaking._ Yuuri knew an evasion when he heard one. He pursed his lips. _Trust needs a protected garden to grow…_ He was dying of curiosity, but… perhaps… "Hey. I love you. If you were… I dunno… to turn out to be a _'both' _like Wolfred, for instance… I'd love a _'both'_ because I love _you_. You don't have to tell me, Wolfram. Take your time. I'll be here."

Wolfram didn't reply. He kissed Yuuri's neck, ran his tongue along his collarbone, teased and nipped at both nipples, and finally unpinned Yuuri's arms to head down Yuuri's belly, sticking a tongue into his bellybutton. He placed his palm on Yuuri's belly then. Healing fire tendrils erupted from it, wriggling and prancing all around Yuuri's torso, fingering his manhood, under and behind, his neck, his ribs.

Yuuri moaned and breathed out in a sweat. The passion in Wolfram's fire was… different. Clearer, yet more… animal somehow… wilder, lonely, hungry… Wolfram continued downward, unusual for him, and took Yuuri deep into his mouth. Yuuri moaned and raked his hands through Wolfram's hair, overcome by the emotional and physical sensations. _"Wolfram…! Ah…!"_

oOo

_Trond Hall, March 20th_

_Dearest Aldrich, cousin, brother, colleague, best friend,_

_If you're reading this, I went to the trolls and died of it. I beg you, do not seek revenge, but respect it – for this was my free choice. As I respect your free choice not to go to the trolls, but to live. It's for you to seek peace between our troll and demon kin, to keep faith with the future. And perhaps, I hope – to find a way for me to be the last to die this way. But please understand, friend – I choose to keep faith with the past, for all who went before us._

_Should you meet my daughter someday, please know that I loved and wanted her very much, an uptroll child, to take part in the rebuilding of the troll race. And if you DARE to compare my death with Glynda's, I shall haunt your sleep and nibble at your toes until you knock it off. _

_It's been a good life. I count you among the greatest blessings in it. I pray you get your wish, Aldrich. I love you always. Franklin._

oOo

Manfred put the letter down. "Thank you, for letting me read that," he said to Aldrich. It was midnight of the same night, in Aldrich's bedroom. When Aldrich's coalition meeting broke up, Erick had handed him the farewell letter from his father Franklin. Aldrich was in his cambric nightshirt contemplating the letter when Manfred came in. This was their first moment alone since Tariel's meeting.

_So much to say … too much._ Manfred remembered the night before he proposed to Cecilie, when Aldrich intervened before he and Cecilie could really hurt each other, because Manfred was reeling from too much, too fast… _So take it slow,_ he thought. _If it doesn't get said tonight, there will be other nights._

"What was your wish? If you don't mind my asking," said Manfred. When Aldrich didn't answer immediately, he continued, "Everyone assumed, after the phoenix, that my leg was my deepest grief, because the phoenix made the damage regenerate. But it wasn't me."

"I know," said Aldrich. "Chichi. Glynda and Cecilie, as well, I think, but Chichi told me. That was his grief and wish. Your leg, my arm. To redeem his grief over his whole family, Wolfred, Wolfgang, his wife, all the rest the Moron killed."

Manfred swallowed. "That_ is_ a lot of grief. No wonder." He disrobed and took a roomy blue cambric nightgown of Aldrich's to change into. "I would have guessed your grief was Glynda, her madness, a marriage without love, feeling honor-bound to stand by her in her illness and take her abuse."

"You know me well," breathed Aldrich. As Manfred squeezed into the big armchair beside him, he said, "Look, Manfred. Shouldn't you be with your wife?"

"Been there, done that. If you kick me out, I'll be roaming the halls to find someone _else's_ bed to sleep in. Going back to hers tonight… would send an unfair mixed message." Aldrich looked a question. "I asked first. Was that the wish Franklin referred to?"

"Yeah," said Aldrich, relenting and cuddling Manfred close, looking over the top of his perpetually bedroom-tousled blond hairstyle, into space. "During our annual stag ski vacation in February. Lin said he couldn't believe it, that my grief and wish to the phoenix were over my arm instead of Glynda. I told him that I'd kinda thought that was my wish, too, but… It wasn't like that, you know? We didn't pose well-considered rational requests. The phoenix… just read our hearts directly. I wished…"

Aldrich knew full well what he wished. But he'd held his tongue for so long. He and Manfred had talked, agreed to stop hiding from each other, but… it wasn't just all of Wolfram's life. What Tariel had said, that the pull was strong, the attraction to another wood nymph, overpowering… Aldrich started hiding his feelings for Manfred thirty years before he came home disabled. Started drinking to hide from himself, avoided Manfred at parties, pulled away… And tonight he just felt raw. Too much in one week, the trolls, expecting to die, his son Dietrich in danger, Franklin's death, Manfred, his very being turned inside out with his maryoku, his very identity revised and revised again with troll, elf, and wood nymph, still a man but one who could be a mother by making _seeds_, of all things… But the wish of his heart remained. _Well, if the phoenix could see that as the most important thing to me, maybe that's because… it is._

"I told Lin I wished to be loved, not… anything specific about Glynda," he eventually said softly. "I wanted… to have and to hold, a loving partnership, to raise Dietrich and more children within a love like that. So Lin just up and said, _'But you're in love with Manfred. You know, Aldrich, I think you haven't gotten your wish yet because you're all crosswise with yourself. You want Manfred to be Manfred, but you want to be domestic with Manfred, but you don't think Manfred wouldn't want that with you. Just… admit to yourself what you really wish.'"_ Aldrich snorted softly and added, "Then he said, _'And when you make up your mind, maybe you could just **ask** Manfred whether he'd want that, too, instead of **assuming** you know. Arrogant know-it-all.'_"

Manfred laughed. "I don't know why I thought I knew you better than Franklin did."

Aldrich shook his head and played with Manfred's hair. "Not a chance." He closed his eyes and let himself feel it for a few moments, how much he'd miss Franklin, forever and ever.

"You underestimate me," said Manfred. "Maybe not_ yet_. But that's only because we've been lying to each other. So, I talked to Cecilie tonight…"

"I don't know if I can deal with this tonight, Manfred," Aldrich said gently, pulling back and stroking Manfred's face with a finger. "Overload." He swallowed.

Manfred caressed him back, fingers stroking his cheek, thumb pressing inside his mouth to push a little on his back molars the way he liked. This trick also served to tell the more verbally adroit Aldrich that it was his turn to shut up and _listen_.

Manfred said, "I know, but – trust me a little, OK? So, there's this conference at home until fall, right? So, I want to share your room, and bring Efram back home, as well. And after the dragons and all get straightened out… I want to return to teaching. Retiring as a full-time playboy is shallow as hell. Somewhere along the line, I… grew up. I need my work. I don't feel useful here. I'd stay at the Institute some nights, but most nights… I'd come home. To be with you. And Dietrich. And Efram. Would you… be OK with that?"

"More than," Aldrich managed to whisper, and buried his face in Manfred's hair. "Cecilie…?"

"We agreed to that much, for now. No big sudden moves, divorce or anything, just play it by ear. We talked a long time, about all that Tariel said." He thought of something and frowned, and punched Aldrich gently. "We talked a lot about Dietrich. Dietrich overheard you tell Glynda you were a quarter troll? Right before she _killed_ herself? That would send most kids around the bend." Manfred gauged Aldrich's reaction and concluded, "It _did_ send Diet around the bend, didn't it. You should have told me. What happened?"

"What you'd expect," said Aldrich. "He blamed himself, thought his mother killed herself because he was too troll. Started cutting himself, hiding from everybody, even Trenton, nightmares constantly, flipped out and stabbed another kid… Chichi moved back home, helped a lot. And Brendan and Hilde. But you and Cecilie were honeymooning. You had your own lives and family down here."

"If Cheri'd known Diet were in trouble, she would have flown me up the Donza in a heartbeat. She wasn't Maou by mistake, Aldrich. She has a big heart. And she's _all_ about kids. So. Deal? You and me, we live together. Cecilie's still my wife, but we just… keep walking and taking the next right step?"

Aldrich begged himself, pleaded with himself, _Say yes! Say hell yes! Say something!_ And he thought about seeds. He wanted to try this, he wanted to have a child with Manfred, he wanted more than this not-divorce not-marriage. He wanted…

"OK, don't answer," said Manfred, kissing him tenderly on the forehead. "Think about it? I just brought this up tonight because you said you were leaving tomorrow."

"No, I need to stay another day because of Erick," said Aldrich. He rubbed his regenerating arm, _And Tariel says I heal that tonight, too, dammit…_ "Dammit!" he exploded. "All this – of course I want you to live with me! I want nothing more in the world. And my head keeps spinning back to wanting to get home and save my hydrangeas that damn dragon chewed on! And worrying that Lord Howard will have the broken bushes pulled up and thrown away before I can heal them!"

Manfred cracked up laughing, and drew Aldrich into his arms, against his chest, and rocked him a little. "Aldrich?"

"What."

"Your valet knows how you feel about your garden. We_ all_ know how you feel about your garden. Your valet will protect the hydrangea bushes. With his life. _Nobody_ will touch your hydrangeas. Promise."

"I'm pretty whacked out, huh."

"I'm guessing that meeting with Tariel was a mind-blower. Yuuri and Cheri and I figure you and Wolfram are _'both'_s and got sprouting instructions. Of course I'm dying to know how that works… And I want to hear all about it, but only when you feel ready to tell me. Which probably isn't right now. So. Let's climb into bed."

"Wait," said Aldrich. "Tariel… said a lot of stuff. He… rearranged my maryoku. He said I finish healing my arm tonight. But… I'm scared. What if… I try to do it, and it breaks what the phoenix did? If I don't try healing it, it'll finish regenerating in a year or three. But if I break it… And I haven't practiced with this new… healing fire…"

Manfred's career was teaching healing. He knew stage fright when he heard it. Fire healers were always afraid, the good ones, when they took on a new challenge, that they'd do a harm. He nodded and matter-of-factly pulled Aldrich out of the chair and into bed. "Off with the gowns, then. Show me your new fire."

They ooh'd and ah'd and experimented with the new fire a while, for Aldrich to get comfortable with it. Manfred loved the new touch of it, a cooler vibrant flame, more powerful, more dynamic yet more grounded, more _Aldrich_. Manfred gave Aldrich a dose of his own true fire as well, to tell him beyond any possible question, Aldrich was still _his_ Aldrich, regardless of any identity revisions he was struggling with. There was yet this landmark for orientation – Manfred loved him utterly, whatever he was. And he was right where he wanted to be – with Aldrich.

Eventually Manfred shifted to a seated position on the bed, with Aldrich cradled in his arms. He made his own flame clinical to monitor Aldrich's self-healing, with the calm assurance of a man who'd supervised nervous healers stretching their limits a thousand times. Aldrich reached in with his flame, explored, and then it… clicked. He felt what he needed to do. Like a tree, the arm grew from its base up, and out. He drew the long arm bones and all the supporting structure out first, the nerves and veins and arteries, muscles and tendons, skin and fascia, all to their final length, to support and nourish the wrist bones and muscles as he grew them to final size, then the hand bones, then the finger bones.

He started to withdraw, and Manfred murmured, "Not yet. If you can lengthen the muscles, you can strengthen them. If you can grow bones, you can grow nails. Take your time, grow your hand strong and whole. You can do this."

It was fiddly work, the fine muscles and extensive nerves of the hand going every which way, but he stuck to it and finished, not only a regrown hand, but one with strength and dexterity – as much strength and dexterity as his right hand, in fact, since that was the model he had to work from. Then he withdrew and stretched the hand out in front of himself to look, turned it in wonder, felt the muscles flex again, after nearly a century.

And he turned and touched Manfred's face with his new hand, feeling his hair, his eyelashes, his lips. "I love you," he whispered. "Come live with me. As much time as you can. Let's raise our kids together."

Manfred smiled and nodded. Aldrich turned around and straddled him, running both his hands all over the beautiful compact blond. He kissed Manfred, deeply on the mouth, the ears, the neck, the collarbone, the nipples. He placed his palm on Manfred's belly, sent his cool orange-green-blue fire tendrils playing all over his torso. And kissed his way down, to take Manfred deep into his mouth.

"_Ah_…. _Aldrich!_… hey… I love it but… when you do that…_ah!_… your sinuses always… _aah!"_

"Shut up, Manfred," Aldrich explained.

Manfred laughed. "Yes, my liege… _ah…"_ And he leaned back to enjoy whatever Aldrich wanted to do to him.

That being exactly what Wolfram had done to Yuuri.

oOo

_Bananam00n's illustration (on my homepage link on author's profile) was drawn at this point in the story. _

_Please review? Pretty please?_


	11. A Midsummer Night

Kyou Kara Maou : The Trouble With Trolls

Summary: Wolfram's attempt to bypass Maou Wedding Curse with a small family ceremony, backfires when an uninvited relative arrives - the Troll Mother.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Chapter 11 : A Midsummer Night

The sun set blood-red over the Donza River, packed with spectator barges and pleasure-craft, as the crowd jostled for a good view on the riverside von Bielenfeld Fairgrounds. This midsummer's eve would at last see the ceremony to swear in Lord Erick von Trondheim to the ruling Eleven Aristocrats of Shin Makoku. Aldrich – whose dramatic flair owed much to the influence of his nutcase elder nephew Wolfred – had set the date and format.

Cheri graced Manfred's arm as they headed for the Lord's review line in the deepening dusk. With an impish smile, she tugged on his formal Bielenfeld Blues. "So when do I get to see _sprouts?_"

"_Sshh,_ woman! This isn't the place for a conversation like that. They haven't even told Yuuri and me that they _can_ yet. We don't know, remember? Give them time. It's been a madhouse." Indeed, Castle Bielenfeld, hosting the Mazoku pan-racial conference, had been a packed zoo for nearly two months. "Now get with the program. Be a good girl, show off your cleavage, and smile for the common people." He caused more than a few gawking collisions with his demonic green-eyed winks himself. He was an equal opportunity flirter – he gave appreciative glances to all the women, and frankly reciprocated any gazes of interest from men as well.

Cheri obligingly applied herself to causing pedestrian traffic accidents with smile and cleavage, then tugged on him again. "Oh, but it's so hard to _wait!_ Aldrich _has_ been comfortable, with me staying here sometimes? He won't be mad, me coming out with you tonight?"

"Yes, yes, it's fine, you've been lovely, I'm sure you'll get to see sprouts. And Aldrich's every bit as curious as I am how you're keeping that dress up over your nipples. Good color choice for the dark, love, you're causing ten man pile-ups."

"You've pulled my dresses off enough times – surely you've figured it out. _That_ collision was yours, Manfred." Manfred glanced back over his shoulder to give a special demonic smile to the afflicted young man, who was still gaping. "Oh, I do so love working a crowd with you, Manfred." The two of them shared an evil green-eyed smile of perfect understanding.

"I did warn you there would be dancing tonight, yes?" Manfred eyed her dress' bodice, cut down to _there_, with cutout beneath nearly from pubic bone to solar plexus, and a cutout back as well. No, he hadn't figured out how this dress stayed up at _all_.

"Mm, I'm counting on it," replied Cheri. "I picked this dress out _specially._ You'd be surprised how many men think like you do."

"No, I wouldn't. I'd guess all who can get it up, half who can't any more, and half the boys who haven't yet." Manfred peered at the lower end of her cut out back. Nice view. No further clues. Cecilie enjoyed the attention, though. _Aldrich just might be curious enough to send me to her bed tonight to find out… Nah, too possessive – he'd rather theorize with me safely tucked in his arms. That'd be fun…_

"I keep picturing you as a sprout…"

"Woman, _not here!_ Now what's it going to be, grace my arm in silence in the front-row seats, or do I leave you down in the madding crowd?"

Cheri zipped her lips and matched his leer. And craning her neck all around, promptly forgot her promise. "But where _is_ Aldrich? Surely he wouldn't be late."

Manfred pointed to a crowd of men in von Trondheim brown and scarlet. Given their massive physiques, Aldrich could well be hidden among them. Manfred said, "He's dressed to honor his mother tonight. He can't represent Bielenfeld dressed as Trondheim, so I'm standing in for him among the Lords. With _you_ if you're good." He drew close to her ear to whisper, "Now, as we pass Lord and Lady von Krist, let's see which of us can get a wink, shall we?"

"It's a draw," Cheri called the contest after they passed the winking Krists into the Bielenfeld position in the review line with Friedrich and Dietrich and Efram. "Ah, we haven't lost our touch!" They grinned at each other as Yuuri took the podium. Manfred let go of her to rest his hands on Dietrich's shoulders instead. The boy was staring nervously at his grandmother Alana von Trondheim and Troll Mother, who had… thrones, really… at the center of the dais. Any chairs large enough for them looked like thrones.

"Citizens, Lords and Ladies, friends," began Yuuri over the majustsu-enabled loudspeakers. Bielenfeld's sound system carried his voice clearly even to the barges on the Donza. "Normally, accepting a new Lord into the Eleven, we have a swearing-in ceremony at Blood Pledge Castle, with a military review of the Lord's armed forces. That is clearly not in keeping with the spirit of this conference. Many among you may have wondered, given the threat of war barely averted, with dragons still occupying our cities and castles, patrolling our more troubled borders, whether even _accepting_ Erick von Trondheim into the Eleven, was appropriate.

"But of all the domains of Shin Makoku, Trondheim most embodies what the Bielenfeld Dragon Conference is about. Of all domains, Trondheim gives refuge to the most dwindling Mazoku races, has laws most comprehensive in arbitrating the conflicts of interest among them. In the seven weeks of this conference, none among the Eleven have provided more insight, more examples, more concrete proposals than Erick von Trondheim and his colleagues. We have taken our time, gotten to know each other. _Trust_ has grown. And today, he has been _unanimously_ approved by the Lords and myself. Please join me in applauding – _Erick, Lord Trondheim!_"

The applause from the largely Bielenfeld crowd was politely lukewarm, simply grateful for the extraordinary party. But applause from _all_ of the Lords' groups on the review platform, and from Aldrich and the Trondheims arrayed before the dais, was sincere and thunderous.

"Someone should tell that poor boy to stop wearing sunglasses," Cheri murmured to Manfred, referring to Erick. "It's easier to trust a man when you can see his eyes."

"Aldrich and Brendan thought the same," Manfred replied. "They tried contacts and things. But he just can't see well without them. Finally Conrad put his foot down, and said Erick couldn't build trust by pretense. If Erick really needed glasses, he should wear them and be himself, without apology."

"_Oh!_ Mm, that does make sense. Good for Conrad!"

Manfred nodded. "It made a big difference. After that, Erick stopped being so stiff, and we got to know the real man. He's quite the character, and _really_ sharp. Went from being the embarrassment of the coalition, to a star player at the conference, in nothing flat. Conrad's grown into a perceptive man. Doesn't talk much, but when he does, people learn to listen. I think Aldrich and Brendan took it to heart as well. They quit feeling awkward about their trollness and went back to being themselves."

Cheri looked at the jaunty sunglasses in a new light. "Do you think he's ready to rule Trondheim?"

Manfred shrugged. "I imagine Alana does that – it's a matriarchy, love. Erick's Alana is like Yuuri's Gwendal. Actually, Gwendal's been coming around a lot for family dinners, too, and joining in Lord's Lesson afterwards. Erick had his father a lot longer than Gwendal did. It was tough for Gwendal."

Cheri nodded sadly, and sighed. "Would that we'd had his father longer. I hope Gwendal hasn't been unpleasant?"

Manfred shook his head emphatically. "Not at all. _I_ respect the hell out of him. It takes guts to admit he's learning from a bunch of autonomists."

Erick and Yuuri completed the swearing-in ceremony at the podium. But then Erick took the microphone-equivalent – a small majutsu horn. He and Yuuri bowed to each other, and Yuuri took a seat.

"Lords," Erick began, addressing the line of Aristocrats, Cecilie and Manfred among them. He had a superb speaking voice. All high born youngsters in Trondheim, Aldrich included, studied public speaking in earnest. To be chosen speaker was an honor based on merit. Franklin and Aldrich, and later Erick, were expected to earn that honor. "Lords, normally, at this time, I would pass in review with each of you. I look forward to that honor – tomorrow night. Tonight, instead we share with you a troll midsummer's celebration, in lieu of a military review.

"Many of you know the trolls' present-day allies and closest friends, the goblins, the elves, and the demons of Trondheim. And we dance midsummer together tonight as always. As you may _not_ know, the trolls of old had other allies, before the Enemy of Shinou tore us asunder. Some of these races have not danced with us on this sacred night _in over four thousand years_.

"First to the dance – the _dragons!_" There was a thunderous round of applause from everyone at that. Aldrich had packed this audience by publicizing the multi-dragon spectacle. Erick continued as commentator, as four dragons circled the field, and began weaving in a dance and blowing fire. "Two of these dragons are the only ones remaining from Shinou's time. Her hosts in Wincott hail her – _Annabelle!_" he cried while Annabelle – the original Neville – swooped down at him at the dais, missing his head by mere inches, then pulled up with a huge spew of flame. The next dragon played the same game as he called, "In Krennhaven, they call him – _Darkscale!_

"Annabelle and Darkscale's daughter leads the truce enforcers in the most troubled hot-spot in all Shin Makoku." This dragon had an attitude and wanted to flaunt it. She circled fast and low, dive-bombing the spectator barges on the Donza, doing several hair-raising aerobatics over the crowd. "Kriegsbad trembles at the name of – _Kristbane!_" Kristbane dove at huge Erick with such speed and ferocity that the wind knocked him back. Her towering flame and jaw-rattling roar drove Dietrich into hiding in Manfred's arms.

"At this time," Erick remarked, in a casual and friendly tone, "I'd like to remind the audience, that the area here around the dais is restricted for the security of the Trondheim delegation. Mind the military police, folks. _Nobody, _but_ nobody,_ screws with _Kristbane!_" The crowd laughed.

Friedrich gazed after Kristbane with dark joy. He'd had enough of practicing with Neville over tea and crumpets – he wanted to talk to this shock trooper. Wolfram behind the podium looked like he was thinking the same thing. Greta was hanging on Wolfram begging to let her come with. The Krist-Trondheim frontier dragons still dealt out executions following violent incidents nearly every day. They didn't attend Neville's parties. Kristbane had arrived escorting the Trondheim multi-racial delegation, which included Troll Mother and Aldrich's mother Alana, and she'd guard them until they were back well within Trondheim.

"And the fourth dragon, our protector and dragon host here in _gracious_ Bielenfeld, the best fed dragon to ever look for a mate – _Neville!"_ The Bielenfeld crowd thundered with applause for Neville. He didn't have a prayer of equalling the elders for size, or Kristbane for ferocity, so Neville came waddling in on a slow roll, to Dietrich's delight. He and Trenton exchanged thumbs-up.

After the dragon light show was done, the elves filed into the restricted exhibition dance area to dance before Troll Mother and Lady Alana. The troll-kin sang strange dark erotic music as accompaniment. Erick kept up a steady commentary, with the history of the elves and trolls and descriptions of the dances. A number of spectators started leaving once the dragons were done, but many wandered back as they realized Erick did a great job compensating for the people in the back. And they might never see these other races again. During Lord's Lessons, the children had put a lot of ingenuity into nurturing this perspective, amongst the rather xenophobic Bielenfeld conference hosts.

To the surprise and delight of the spectators on the barges, Teodor von Trondheim on the river took over as announcer, to describe the joint swimnastics of the mermensch, silkies, and several other aquatic races – one a lumbering behemoth along the lines of the Loch Ness Monster he called the Kraken.

The non-healing, pure fire maryoku branch of the von Bielenfelds – Lord Howard's gang – was on the river en masse, and provided lots of firelight, especially each time the Kraken's giant tentacles rose high above the barges. Ted laid no claim as to whether or when these water Mazoku were allied to the trolls. Sea peoples, they'd never danced before at midsummer in the high mountain troll halls of Trondheim.

"And folks," concluded Ted, "please respect the warning buoys on the riverfront, marking the restricted area for the security of our guests from the Khrennikov coast. And there is_ no_ swimming _anywhere_ tonight, on the Donza. If you go overboard, to avoid confusion, the MP's will _not_ be jumping in after you. Darkscale and the Kraken will be handling violators, _personally_. So folks, stay dry, and stay safe. Back to you, Lord Trondheim!"

"Thank you, Ted! Folks, that was my uncle Teodor von Trondheim, speaking to you from the barges." Erick didn't dare ask for a round of applause for Ted, but the crowd gave him one anyway.

As the applause died down, Erick outlined the rest of the night. A number of races had but a single representative here, and goblins and demons usually danced together at midsummer. Therefore following an intermission, _everyone_ was invited to join in the goblin dances, spectators included. After that would be a half hour intermission, then the trolls' turn to end the night. He warned that the troll dance was a religious ceremony, and would last until after 2 a.m. But for those who stayed, he promised a small but complete rendition of one of the most sacred troll rites, plus a surprise appearance by another of the trolls' ancient allies.

As the intermission shuffling got underway, Aldrich vaulted up onto the stage to join the von Bielenfeld group. He swooped up a grinning Dietrich. "Everybody having fun? Kristbane was cool, huh, Diet? Awesome dress, Cecilie! Efram, get back here." He snagged an escaping Efram by the collar and dragged him back, then started dancing a little. "Manfred! Diet! Guess what Grandmother Alana brought with her! _Mokonas!"_

"_Really?_" Dietrich's eyes lit up. "_Where?_"

"We'll go dance with them in a minute."

"How entrolled are you?" chuckled Manfred.

"Just enough to enjoy it," Aldrich returned with a grin. "Oh, yeah, Efram! You're off duty tonight –"

"_Really?"_ Efram's eyes lit up. Head of the Horde had been a hell of a job during this conference.

"Really – all kids under parental supervision. The problems are out on the barges with Lord Howard. _But,"_ he grabbed Efram back as he started to bolt, "that includes _you_. Look, not touch. Got it?"

Efram smiled his pixie smile. "Aw, you know me…"

"I sure do. That elf dance was … _inspiring_. Maybe it's just my elf blood. You think?"

"I think it's your _male_ blood," Efram admitted, grinning.

"Yeah, I think so, too. So play safe, don't piss off Kristbane, and have a ball with your night off – well earned, well deserved. You've been awesome at this conference. Thank you."

Efram grinned his thanks and disappeared.

"Well, I'll mosey off, too," Cecilie said. She dragged a fingertip across Manfred's cheek. "See you tomorrow."

"Happy hunting. Cecilie," Manfred said, matching her demonic green-eyed leer.

"Sorry, did I chase her off?" asked Aldrich, not looking especially sorry.

_Definitely possessive. But I kinda like it,_ thought Manfred. He caressed Aldrich's hand on Dietrich's back. "She's fine, having a ball."

Friedrich sighed. "Manfred, I truly don't understand you two. Three…"

"Want me to explain it to you, Uncle?" Manfred threatened.

"Gods, no, thank you very much for asking," said Friedrich with a laugh, and also sauntered off to seek a dance partner.

"Will Grandfather dance with Grandmother Alana?" asked Dietrich.

"I doubt that very much, Diet. Now – _Mokonas! Mokonas!"_

The three of them were soon dancing with a half dozen waist-high – on Manfred, at least – mokonas. The creatures were even more adorable in person. They were freshly washed and glossy black, though a whiff of their carrion-fed halitosis was daunting. They were joined by all the von Gratzes, including little Frieda, then Greta and Yuuri and Wolfram with the latest dozen goblins she'd befriended. Greta had won the undying worship of the gaggle of goblins she and Adelbert acquired in the Fens – they were still at Blood Pledge Castle, employed in the baths. Günter and Yozak both raved about them as bath attendents, albeit in rather different tones of voice.

Efram, holding hands in a traveling line dance with around twenty elves and demons and a faun, wove by once. Gwendal and Annissina, with her von Khrennikov relatives, all danced by with pure goblins. Gwendal was even quirking up a corner of his mouth in an almost-smile. Yozak and Conrad joined a rough squat-and-leap line-dance of part-troll men, all stripped to the waist, sweating in the 72-degree summer swelter. In the wintersport wonderland of high Trond Hall, such temperatures would be a 100-year record daytime high.

oOo

"Hi, I'm back, did you miss me?" Erick greeted the crowd, as he took the horn back from Yuuri. _"I flunked out,"_ he confided in a low voice, eliciting laughter. The crowd had thinned substantially, duly warned of _'religious preliminaries'._ That was intentional – Erick wanted only sincere spectators for the religious rites. But these turned out to be hilarious elimination rounds of the part-troll men, stripped to their waists and strutting their stuff for Alana and Troll Mother, vying for the honor of _'Caller'_ in the dance. Aldrich had told Manfred to picture all the men as princesses vying for the Crown Prince's favor. Then flip gender for a matriarchy – women rather liked boys to be boys. Manfred had to admit, the goofball spectacle made a lot of sense from that perspective.

"It's OK, though! Really!" Erick confided to the audience. "We're down to the final six, but what an interesting six! All _three_ non-Trondheims are still in the running! But this next round is the presentation of children. This is the most _feared_ round of the elimination," he lowered his voice again, "being_ judged _on the quality of their _children_! _My_ father always said so, when he was stuck presenting _me_. The non-Trondheims will be eliminated _this time _for _sure_!"

The three Trondheim champions brought their kids to converse with Alana and Troll Mother first. Erick kept up a running translation. The ladies judged two of the children worthy, but bounced the third son, who was older than Erick, because he hadn't made it past the first round of qualifying acrobatics – he'd only made it six steps on his hands.

Next up was Brendan, presenting Trenton. Alana asked him what he'd done this year to be proud of. Trenton bragged about seeing ten dead trolls in the Fens. All the trolls – including a mortified Brendan – gasped.

"And what did _you_ do?" inquired Alana.

"Um, mostly I fought with my cousin Dietrich," Trenton admitted.

"A spirited lad, isn't he, Alana?" said Troll Mother fondly, petting Brendan's hand.

Alana smiled wanly, and stroked Trenton's forehead, then gave them a little shove toward some retainers, who led the woozy pair away.

"And Brendan and Trenton von Gratz are _entrolled_ to go learn better manners!" summarized Erick. The Trondheim men laughed and applauded. "We're down to four. Next up, Adelbert von Gratz presenting his six year old daughter Frieda!"

Alana and Troll Mother were fascinated by Frieda, but after passing her back and forth, they regretfully told Adelbert that only a _Mazoku_ child could qualify him.

"But she does have maryoku!" objected Adelbert, defending little Frieda. "Here Frieda, make your sandbear for Chichibert?"

"Did Adelbert just call himself _'Chichibert'_?" relayed a laughing Erick. "Whoa! And folks, the half-human Frieda has a pure fire majutsu signature, of a… is that a _sandbear!? _... Yes, folks, Adelbert explains to the mothers that Frieda's mother was a… _pirate!?_ And a sandbear trainer… And the mothers are impressed, that Frieda is daughter of such a warrior woman." Erick made it clear that he and the other Trondheim men found their approval hard to believe. "Ah… the sand-bear training pirate mother is no longer with them… And Wolfram von Bielenfeld is fostering her when Adelbert isn't present… This is complicated, folks… Troll Mother summons Wolfram to the dais… Wolfram is the _girl in pink who's a boy?_ It seems they know each other… But Alana wants to know who the real woman of the household is… Lady Cecilie von Spitzweg saunters forth – sweet Shinou, what a dress… Lady Alana likes the dress… Troll Mother wants to know if she raised the girl in pink who's a boy if she'll then raise the girl to be a boy – I'm so confused! … Lady Cecilie whispered something to the Mothers… Whoa! Lady Alana is laughing out loud! This is rare, folks. And Adelbert – _passes!_ Whoa!" A huge round of applause followed for Adelbert and Frieda.

"Alright, folks, last up – Aldrich von Bielenfeld, presenting his son Dietrich!" The Trondheim men started chanting, _Doom! Doom! Doom!_ "Now, my great-aunt is of course _impeccably_ fair." _Doom! Doom! Doom! _"Lady Alana would _never_ treat her son to an_ impossible standard_ or anything."_ Doom! Doom! Doom! _Alana made a slicing gesture at her neck, and Erick and the men desisted with the teasing, as Aldrich came up to the dais, bare chest and blue-blond hair glistening gorgeously in the firelight, hand in hand with the flawlessly attired Dietrich.

"Aldrich, get your _hair _off your forehead," Alana snapped. _Doom! Doom! Doom!_ started up the men from behind again. "Oh, _fine!_" she snapped at them, with another neck-slicing gesture. Aldrich maintained his composure, bowed to both Mothers, and presented Dietrich, who also calmly bowed, with impeccable manners.

"Oh, you're such a lovely child, little Tricky! Isn't he, Alana?" said Troll Mother. "Such pretty manners. So, Dietrich, I hear you set little Frieda's hair on fire in the Krist Fens. Tell me about that?"

Erick gasped, as did the audience when he relayed this. But Dietrich calmly said that he'd misbehaved to help Brendan convince their captors to take them to Shin Makoku instead of Trond Hall. He bowed deeply and apologized. He added that he had apologized and made amends to Hasgrud, the leader of their captors, after their captivity was over. Red-haired Hasgrud being one of the other finalists, he came forward and corroborated this story. Dietrich had given him vegetables he'd grown himself in his garden as gifts for his father and grandfather, and that after the party had turned toward Shin Makoku, Dietrich had been an absolute angel. Hasgrud shook Dietrich's hand, and Aldrich's, and headed back to the waiting group of finalists.

Erick concluded, "And – Aldrich and Dietrich von Bielenfeld _pass!_" There was thunderous applause from the audience. "Ah – now what?" Erick passed the horn to Alana.

Alana spoke carefully. "In the past, the children Frieda and Dietrich would not have qualified their fathers, for they are not of half troll blood or higher. But their fathers can qualify in that way only at great peril for their lives. The Daughters and the Mothers have conferred and come to a ruling. The final round in this competition shall be judged on the answers to these questions: What are your greatest accomplishments this year? Whom would you Call? And lastly, do you believe you should be chosen Caller?"

The two Trondheim men came in turn and knelt before her. The first had completed building a new Hall in the troll reservation, but was at peace with all his dead, and had no one to Call this year. He bowed out. Hasgrud said he'd done his duty to friends and family and Trondheim. He wished to Call his comrades who had perished in the Krist Fens, and believed he was qualified as Caller by the old rules as well as the new.

Adelbert gave several accomplishments in Weller's Rangers. He said his father had died this year, and if the dance could bring atonement… His voice cracked. He should like to find peace with his father. He had never been part of a troll ceremony before, had chosen to repudiate his troll heritage in anger, and believed he should not be chosen Caller. But that he would be honored if the Mothers would allow him to participate, and try to find troll-demon reconciliation within himself. Alana and Troll Mother clearly found his case moving.

Aldrich knelt before them. "This year, I have struggled to become myself more truly. I have learned much about myself that I did not know, and accepted it. My maryoku powers have grown, and I completed regenerating my own arm. I at last set the past to rest, and face the future with my lover. But most of all, I worked for peace between troll and demon, and now all races. I cannot call that accomplished, nor mine. It is too much bigger than me. But I am proud of my part in it. This year I would call Adeldan von Gratz, who was like a brother-in-law to me, and slain by my own vassals. Wolfred von Bielenfeld, like a brother to me, who died long ago, but with whom I have… fresh business. My best friend, Franklin von Trondheim. And Hasgrud's dead on the Krist Fens, for _I_ was responsible for their deaths, as I played for time to build peace. As for whether I am qualified to Call," he looked his mother straight in the eye, "I never expected to live to find out, Mother."

At this, Hasgrud respectfully approached and took the horn, and Aldrich stepped back to wait. "Mothers, I wish to bow out. I find Aldrich's case more compelling than my own."

Alana said quietly, "Aldrich von Trondheim von Bielenfeld shall Call."

The non-Trondheim audience started applauding, but Erick held up his arms. "Please, there will be no further applause tonight. The rest of our proceedings are a sacred rite. You are welcome to observe, but you cannot interrupt. This rite is to Call our dead back to us, to dance resolution and to visit with them. We invite you to Call upon your dead as well. Once the Calling begins, you too may feel moved to dance, _outside_ the restricted area. And when you feel complete, you may feel free to leave. On behalf of the Mothers and all the people of Trondheim, I thank you for joining us tonight. May the atonement and magic of midsummer bring peace to you all. Good night."

A spattering of applause was quickly self-stifled among the crowd. Two thirds of the torches around the restricted area were doused. Aldrich finally rose from where he'd been kneeling between Alana and Troll Mother, their hands on his head, receiving instructions and pheromones. He strode to the middle of the dance floor, and knelt again, head bowed to the mothers. The men – part-trolls only to start – began singing and dancing around him. The earth rose in humps for them to somersault off, then pillars they leapt between. The music throbbed. The very earth under their feet drummed percussion from the tapping of Troll Mother and Alana's feet, even rocking the barges on the Donza.

When this built to a frenzy, Aldrich rose, and threw his signature twenty feet high into the air – his new blue-green-orange cypress tree. Many gasped, including the Aristocrats, for only a handful had seen it yet. He joined the acrobatic dance, but alternated between leaping off earthworks and touching other men. And the number of men… grew. Shadowy figures, many far taller and more troll than the living men on the dance floor, joined them.

Yuuri watched more intently. The Lords within the restricted area had been told if and when they wanted to join in, to wait at the edge of the dance floor, but otherwise, to stay back in their seats. Some wandered forward, others not. Yuuri hadn't yet. Where Aldrich passed, new shadows joined the last man he'd touched. Usually he simply passed on to the next man. But Aldrich got a leaping assist from Brendan and Adelbert working in tandem – and then danced with a taller blond shadow of a man, apparently Adeldan. Yuuri's eyes widened. Aldrich was actually swinging his _weight_ with the shade of Adeldan! _That's quite a ghost!_ When he reached Erick, both of them clasped arms around a shadowy Franklin, and spun around in a three-man hug. Ted pushed his way in, too.

So far, the shadows were all of trolls in the circle, but Aldrich had mentioned his father Wolfred, so Manfred rose dreamlike to stand beside the dance floor. Garena joined him and took his hand. Manfred looked at him in surprise, then nodded. Friedrich moved to join them, but Tariel took his hand and held him back for a moment. When Aldrich came around, he did a backflip off an earthen pillar that rose to meet him and subsided afterwards, then put his arms around Garena and Manfred and swung around with them. He let go of Garena and Wolfred's shade stepped into the gap. He and Aldrich swung around once more, and Aldrich passed on. The shade of Wolfred between them holding hands in a line, Garena drew Wolfred and Manfred into the dance, weaving between the ever-shifting earthworks. As he passed around the circle, every second torch began to flame half-green instead of all orange. Manfred passed close to Adeldan and was torn. Wolfred swung him around, then let go to have Manfred swing toward the other man, who had remained foster father to Manfred long after his father-mother Wolfred died. The giant shade swung with him and Adelbert, then passed on to greet others among the living.

And so it continued. Many shades were Called, by an Aldrich who seemed to be gaining energy instead of losing it as he passed around. Yuuri saw Friedrich and Tariel greet a beauty who must be the shade of Emeraude, a tall blond man who may well have been Theophilus, and a man much like Manfred who might have been Aldrich's brother Wolfgang. Wolfram danced briefly with a group of twenty blond youths, and a bit longer with three of them, then one, who must have been Axel, then passed on to dance with Gwendal and his father the great general, whom Wolfram never knew, and with Conrad and Dan Hiri Weller, whom he did. Cecilie drifted through and danced with these as well, and many, many others, for she had known most of the dead of the Lords. Yuuri himself chose to sit it out, but Greta asked him to come with her, for she wanted to see her biological parents, and for him to see them. Hilde kept Trenton and Dietrich, until Brendan came to bring Trenton into the dance. Then Efram took Dietrich's hand, and they went in together.

The shades never spoke – they only danced. They were calm and serene, in a daze, as were the living dancers, but they knew each other's touch once more.

Everyone eventually came out of their daze somewhere on the walk back to Castle Bielenfeld, not having realized they'd decided to leave the dance. The memory was hazy – a touch, faces of the departed, the sure knowledge that they were alright and wished their living well. Somehow the dance floor had become rather leafy toward the end. But any discomfort or regret associated with the shades they had met on that field, was gone.

Manfred came to his senses some ways down the road, hand in hand with Dietrich. He eddied them out of the throng, and found a good vantage point to sit with the child. Dietrich told him about seeing his mother, and that he really liked having Manfred better than his mother, then fell asleep on Manfred's lap. Manfred beckoned Efram over when he passed. They talked about the trolls Efram had killed, about men Manfred had killed. Cecilie exchanged a nod as she passed, arm in arm between Conrad and Gwendal and Annissina. The dance ended and the throng gradually slowed to a trickle. Most people passed them in a daze, not noticing them. But Aldrich headed straight for them.

After he'd kissed Manfred and Dietrich, and squeezed Efram's shoulder, he murmured, "I just keep getting stranger all the time, huh?"

"Nope," replied Manfred. "Still Manfred's Aldrich. Just more so." _It's not an observation,_ he thought. _It's a choice. I choose you, Aldrich von Trondheim von Bielenfeld. Every day there's a new you, and a new me, and I choose you again. I didn't know it could happen that way._

It was very late by the time they found their beds, but despite the long hours and dancing, there was magic in the midsummer night air. Wolfram and Aldrich both made more seeds that night.

oOo

_Please review? Pretty please?_


	12. Sprouts

Kyou Kara Maou : The Trouble With Trolls

Summary: Wolfram's attempt to bypass Maou Wedding Curse with a small family ceremony, backfires when an uninvited relative arrives - the Troll Mother.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

Chapter 12 : Sprouts

There was a knock at the door of Aldrich's office a few days later, where he took a few minutes respite from his endless procession of conference meetings to attend to his domain correspondence. "Lord Bielenfeld? Might I have a few minutes of your time?"

"Yes, please come in, Lord… Manfred," Aldrich replied on automatic, only looking up and registering who it was at the last. Manfred, dressed formally, closed the door behind him and took a seat before Aldrich's desk. Since he was being so formal, a clueless Aldrich followed suit. "How can I help you, Lord Manfred?"

"My liege, I beg the favor of the annulment of my marriage to Lady Cecilie von Spitzweg," replied Manfred. "I have a letter from her requesting the same." He handed this over to Aldrich to read.

Aldrich, dazed, took a moment to switch gears and place his attention on the letter.

_Dearest Manfred,_

_Your Uncle Friedrich tells me, that although we cannot divorce, it is possible to annul our marriage, to simply declare that it never happened. At my insistence, he also finally told me why he opposed our marriage. He said that he remembered how Lord Walde and I had brought out the very finest in each other. Dan Hiri Weller and I as well. And that you and Aldrich bring out the greatest in each other. But that you and I… bring out the worst in each other._

_This is what you've been saying, isn't it? Though you use gentler words. That you need to go back to your work. That you're too young to retire. That you wish to make a greater contribution to the world. It's not just about Aldrich, is it? Though, also about Aldrich. And the sprouts. I am so sorry, Manfred. I never meant to make you less than you are._

_It was such a relief to reconcile after all those years. But I believe we overreacted by marrying. I shall always be eager to play with you. But you are so much more, which Aldrich saw, and I did not. Please be the best man you can be, Manfred, for you have grown into a fine one. And I am long overdue to find another line of work._

_I believe annulment to be the best course, for all our sakes. Will you agree?_

_Love, Cecilie von Spitzweg_

Aldrich put the page down, not meeting Manfred's eye. He murmured, "I'll need the request in writing from you as well, Lord Manfred – just a sentence or two stating what and why." He waved to pen and paper, and rose to pull a couple binders from his shelves – _Bielenfeld Marriage Law_, and _Manfred vB_ labeled their spines. He opened them on his desk to the annulment law, and the marriage record. When Manfred was done writing, he read the sterile two liner, still not meeting Manfred's eye. He asked Manfred five questions, running his finger down a checklist from the law book.

"The answer is yes, Lord Manfred. I can grant an annulment." Finally he met Manfred's eye. "Are you… sure?"

Manfred met his gaze and nodded, face a little sad, but resolved. "Yes. I'm sure. Is this… going to take a lot of red tape?"

"Almost done," said Aldrich. He got out some red ink, and wrote _'Annulment granted, Aldrich von Bielenfeld'_ and the date, on marriage record and both letters. He placed Manfred's letter in his personal file, and closed the books. "I will return Lady von Spitzweg's letter to her. This is… overly personal. Your letter and the annulled marriage record are all that remain. Other than that, your marriage never happened."

"Thank you, my liege."

"Is there… anything further, Lord Manfred?" Aldrich asked, still not quite sure what to make of Manfred's sudden and formal approach. Not since the night Aldrich restored his arm, when Manfred said that he and Cecilie had decided not to talk about divorce or make any sudden moves, had Manfred mentioned anything about a resolution to living with Aldrich, while remaining married to Cecilie.

Manfred gave him a level green gaze, then rose and came around the desk, to perch on it next to Aldrich. "Enough with the formalities. Yes, several more things. First, why didn't you tell me, that it was this easy? Why through Friedrich?"

Aldrich answered point-blank. "You didn't tell me that you wanted to end your marriage. Chichi acted on his own. This is the first I've heard of it."

Manfred searched his eyes, and read truth there, and a little pain. "Aldrich… I thought you said that because we had no contract, there was no way to put the marriage aside. That's the _only_ reason I didn't discuss it further. Please be a little more… straightforward with me?" Aldrich looked down and nodded.

"Next," Manfred continued. "My son Efram and I would like to return to Castle Bielenfeld as our primary residence. By your leave."

Aldrich waved a hand. "This is your home. If you wish another room …?"

Manfred snorted and reached over to carress Aldrich's face. "No, our present rooms are perfect." He had shared Aldrich's room ever since they returned home for the conference, and Efram was next door to Dietrich, all three bedrooms opening into Aldrich's personal family parlor. "The point is that we choose to stay, regardless of your answer to the next question. Aldrich … will you marry me?"

Aldrich pulled Manfred into his lap and arms, and pressed his face into his hair, before murmuring. "Yes. _Absolutely._ Thank you…"

"Now," said Manfred. "Let's get married this weekend."

Startled, Aldrich laughed. "What? Why?"

Manfred shrugged and pulled back to place nose to nose. "I was thinking a small family affair, within the greater… madhouse. Maybe we could hide the ceremony in your garden. Look, your mother and my father are in town, and so is everyone else we'd absolutely want to come. Let's just… do it. OK?"

"OK. This weekend."

They shared a long, deep kiss. Manfred pulled back a little and stuck his thumb into Aldrich's mouth, and pushed on his back teeth a little. "I love that quirk of yours. Next question."

Aldrich moaned a little. "Manfwed, how many questons _are_ vare?"

"One more for now. Can we have a child together? I'm not marrying you in order to have a child. And I expect to still be married to you when the children are off making grandchildren, or crying in your arms if we cannot have a child, or lose one. But I would… like to have a child with you. You still haven't told us, you and Wolfram, me and Yuuri. Can we?"

Aldrich reluctantly pulled Manfred's thumb out of his mouth and kissed it. "Wolfram and I agreed to tell you both together. Neither of us are married, and we both… hope to be. And I can't tell my lover without telling his father, or he tell his lover without telling my liege lord. So… does it need to be before the wedding?"

"No," Manfred said and kissed him. "Just… please trust me soon, love. I can't keep pretending I don't already know most of it. You'll feel better about us, when you tell me everything. I'll still love you, Aldrich von Trondheim von Bielenfeld. Even more."

oOo

"Mother!" exclaimed Aldrich in surprise. He and Manfred had just taken Dietrich and Efram onto his big bed and told them about the annulment and marriage, while they were all back in their suite dressing for dinner, to the boys' whole-hearted approval. They'd invited Wolfram's family and elder brothers to dinner, and Erick and Ted von Trondheim and the von Gratzes as well, in order to make the wedding announcement. But Aldrich hadn't expected Alana von Trondheim. Judging from the tension level in the room, perhaps no one else had invited her, either.

"Ah… it's so nice to see you at table." Aldrich kissed his mother's cheek. He continued down the table to return Cecilie's letter to her quietly, with a brief squeeze of her shoulder. They both murmured _'thank you'_ to each other.

"Well, Aldrich, I saw _someone_," Alana said, looking daggers at Cecilie, "making advances on my _husband_," she looked pointedly at Friedrich. "I understand you have _needs,_ dear, but I expect more _discretion_ while I'm visiting."

A deeply amused Friedrich replied, "A simple misunderstanding, Alana. Cecilie is rather, ah, affectionate in manner. Have you met her husband yet, Lord Manfred? And his second son, Lord Efram?"

"I've met Manfred and Efram, of course," she rose – and _rose_ – and greeted the pair, who'd accompanied Aldrich on more than one trip to Trond Hall. Alana was about six and a half feet tall, tiny for a half troll, but wore five-inch stiletto heels. She also wore a strapless evening gown to rival Cecilie's – in assertively gold-trimmed Bielenfeld Blue, this evening, which complemented her royal blue hair and eyes. Her figure rivaled Cecilie's as well, though on a grander scale, and considerably better toned. Alana was an avid skiier.

"Actually –" Alana and Manfred said it at the same time. Alana sunk back into her seat and waved for him to go first.

"Actually, we had a couple announcements to make to the family this evening. The first is that Cecilie and I are no longer married. Our marriage has been annulled." He bowed graciously to Cecilie, who returned this with a gracious nod of her head. Yuuri hugged Wolfram, who looked a little saddened by the news. Conrad and Gwendal were openly delighted. Annissina eyed Friedrich, and Alana eyed Cecilie, with new calculation.

"The second," said Aldrich, coming to put his arm around Manfred, "is that Manfred and I are getting married. We realize this is kind of a rush, but… Mother and Tariel and Garena, and all of you, are a little hard to convene. So… you are all invited to the wedding in the garden, this Sunday at 2 p.m. The wedding will be a small family affair, so please don't discuss it too much with the… other guests." He waved a hand to indicate the several hundred oddball conference attendees crowding his castle and overflowing into all the nearby inns. Then he and Manfred squared off and slapped each other – more like a gentle loving tap – across the face. And fell into an embrace.

The hubbub of congratulations and hugs all around died back eventually, and everyone sat down to eat. Wolfram gave in to his impatience before Alana could bring up her topic again. "So, Chichiue? How is it that you and Aldrich can get a contract together and get married in just a few days?" _When I couldn't!_

Manfred shot him a deep green evil demon smile. "_The_ foremost authority on aristocratic marriage contracts is writing ours," he said, pointing to Aldrich.

Aldrich smiled at Wolfram and shrugged. "I already threw a draft together, and handed it off to our advocates, Lord Wincott and Lord Krist, before supper. We just need to sit down with them for an hour or two tomorrow to go over it, and hash out the heirs and properties."

"_Krist?_" exclaimed Brendan in disbelief.

Manfred shrugged. "I think it's high time Lord Krist returns to the coalition fold, and this seemed an opportunity to ease him in. I get along quite well with him. He's acting as my advocate, Lord Wincott as Aldrich's."

"You're using your _wedding_ to serve political goals?" said Brendan.

Manfred snorted. "How not? Marrying Aldrich."

Conrad leaned forward to add, "The dragons aren't leaving until we can enforce the peace, Brendan. That means Krist and Trondheim need to pacify that border. If ever a problem cried out for an autonomist solution, this is it. I agree with Manfred, this is a golden opportunity to give Lord Krist face and get him back in the game. Thank you, Manfred."

Though some of the strife along that frontier was instigated by Trondheims, the guilt overwhelmingly fell on the Krist side. The coalition had gone from fearing they'd lose von Krist, to thanking Shinou they'd lost von Krist. His domain, and he as their representative, grew unpopular indeed as the bloodshed continued.

Alana and Erick both nodded thoughtfully. Erick said, "At this point, it seems inevitable that we'll need to continue martial law there for a year or two. The sooner that's in Trondheim and Krist hands, instead of Kristbane's dragon claws, the better. So it's high time we started hammering that out. What do you think, Sire?"

Yuuri nodded. "We'll come up with a federal proposal of course. Just to keep the _'loyal opposition'_ on its toes." He and Aldrich exchanged a smile. "But any real solution lies in the hearts and hands of the people who live along the frontier. I'm eager to see your proposals about winning the peace, there." Gwendal and Wolfram nodded agreement.

When this topic died back into general chewing, Alana finally got a word in edgewise. "So Lord Manfred, I trust this means you'll take back the chair of healing at the Majutsu Institute?"

"I'll return to the faculty full time, yes. But Uncle Friedrich has the chair."

Alana dismissed this with a wave. "A position entirely beneath his talents. My husband was chair of healing for centuries, and that was centuries ago. That's like assigning _Aldrich_ to cater children's birthday parties. No offense, I hope, Lord Manfred. My husband has ten times your adult experience."

"No offense taken, Lady Alana," replied Manfred. Truth be told, chair of healing was an illustrious accomplishment for someone as young as Manfred. It rather chafed to lose it to the more accomplished Friedrich.

"Mother, Chichi is _retired,_" said Aldrich, uneasily. "He's given centuries of devoted service to Bielenfeld and Shin Makoku. He's earned a chance to kick back. Chair of healing is a retirement project." But in truth, Aldrich had nearly given up his shot at ruling Bielenfeld in favor of his father. Friedrich's age was remarkable even by Mazoku standards. He'd long since outlived his friends from his previous tenure at the Institute. Aldrich feared that without worthy life's work, his father might decide he'd lived long enough. But he wasn't at all sure that Friedrich had found work of that caliber, and with Manfred helping Aldrich with Dietrich, he feared his father might decide his family didn't need him, either.

"Nonsense," said Alana. "Friedrich will just get old if he retires. Shin Makoku needs his talents and experience too much to let him just squander himself fiddling with his paint pots and vapid students. Friedrich, dear, I'd like you to come home with me to Trond Hall. We have a job that will _really_ put your skills to use. And who knows? It's not too late to give Aldrich a little sister, hm?"

Friedrich blanched. "I think I'm too old to start _that_ again, dear…"

"I'm old enough to be a little sister's _grandfather,_ Mother," said Aldrich. "And I think you're being rather a bully."

"Mind your _manners,_ Aldrich!" retorted Alana.

"Please mind yours, Lady Alana," he returned evenly. "This is my domain, my castle, my vassal, my father. Who has served long and well, and is now free to do as he pleases, and doesn't deserve abuse at table."

"Much as I appreciate the sentiment, Son," Friedrich cut in, "I believe I can defend myself against my wife. Thank you."

"You gave him our castle?" asked Alana. "Hmph. I was going to ask where you'd put my bed. They said they didn't have a bed big enough. They put me in a _tent._"

"Your bed's in my room, of course, dear," replied Friedrich. "We'll straighten that out directly after dinner. You said you had a job for me? What on earth would inspire me to move to Trond Hall?"

"Ah! We have a serious subproblem to solve. Quarter trolls – or usually anyone less than half troll, like poor Franklin – tend not to survive _'going to the trolls'_ –"

"What's _'going to the trolls'_?" asked Dietrich.

"It's about sex, Diet," Efram answered.

"_Oh, yuck, gross!_" the boy cried and put hands over his ears. Trenton echoed him. Little Frieda and Bertram put their hands over their ears and squealed, too, because it looked like fun.

"Lord Efram," said Aldrich in warning. "Mother, pray continue."

Alana looked at Dietrich and smiled. "It's alright, Dietrich. We won't be talking about _that_ subject anymore." She quirked one lip up, in just the mannerism Aldrich had inherited from her, and gleamed an evil grin of challenge at Efram. Efram gulped and looked at Aldrich, who quirked the same grin. Efram nodded.

"As I was saying, dear," she continued to Friedrich, "it is now murder to breed uptroll unless some way can be found to ensure survivability. Simply calling it murder, without solving the demand side of the equation, is to invite… a drastic increase in pregnant capital criminals and orphans. Societal disaster. What I want first, is a credible promise of a solution forthcoming. Something Erick can take and convince the public that _waiting_ is the right thing to do – to wait is to survive and to provide for the offspring. To act prematurely is criminal and irresponsible – a cop-out. But of course, I also want to _deliver_ on that promise – to prove them right to have waited.

"Now, I've tried to review the research on this problem. Friedrich, I'm sure I'm not really qualified to judge, but it seems to me a hodgepodge of religious theory centered on males developing the spiritual trollishness to survive breeding. In short, I think the researchers were… quacks. So. We don't even know why they die."

"Excuse me, Alana," interrupted Manfred. "Friedrich, I believe it's a pheromone-induced catastrophic endorphine cascade."

"Mm, what a way to go," commented Friedrich. "You observed this in Aldrich? Ah, translation, Alana: yes, your religious shamans are barking up the wrong tree."

Alana smiled at Manfred, then Friedrich. "Then you _can_ solve it."

"I should think so," said Friedrich, "though not immediately."

"Excellent! Hm, well, maybe I shouldn't bother with what I was going to suggest. Except, if possible, Friedrich, I'd prefer this solved from the _female_ rather than the male side. If the female is to be called the murderer, yet all the means to ensure survival are in male hands, then… You see the problem."

"Indeed, that's bad law," said Friedrich. "But non-negotiable. Therefore it must be rendered feasible. Certainly, Alana, I'll come take a look. Though actually pushing through to a solution, could be a long and expensive process."

"Exactly, funding is the second problem. But I thought to alloy it with a third problem, and thereby… widen the group of interested parties. Perhaps even to federal scale." She looked at Yuuri and smiled. "All of the diminishing races, and also the Aristocrats, suffer from inbreeding and cross-racial breeding. Inbreeding tends to increase certain medical problems." She paused and glanced gently at Dietrich to hint at his mother's mental illness without saying _anything_ the boy might decipher. "But wouldn't outbreeding then cancel it out?"

"That's true," said Yuuri, emphatically. "The inherited illnesses from inbreeding cannot propagate through outbreeding."

Conrad added, "In Yuuri's other world, empiricists and potionists aren't a small family hobby. They have millions of people engaged in it every day."

"'_Millions'?_" repeated Alana quellingly, disapproving of such exaggeration.

Yuuri nodded. "Literally millions, Lady Alana. The population of my birth world is in the _billions_. Lord Friedrich, my own science education is pretty basic, but I can sketch the theory for you in an hour or so."

"I'd like to be included in that conversation, Yuuri," said Manfred.

"And I," said Aldrich. Thinking of Franklin's last letter to him, he added, "And I'll fund the research. Personally if I have to." He looked at his father appraisingly and smiled. "So, Mother, you baited your hook well. I seem to have lost my most talented vassal to you."

Alana and son shared a quirked smile of understanding. Friedrich looked fairly pleased to be won – it was a most interesting problem, with research, healing, empirical, social, and political aspects, and best of all, mortal stakes. It was his kind of problem.

"I don't understand, Chichiue," complained Dietrich to his father. "Are you going to explain for Lord's Lesson tonight?"

Aldrich gave him a hug. "No, Diet. Efram's going to explain it all to you, while we have a grown-up Lord's Lesson with Yuuri Maou."

"I'll help," said Wolfram, handing Bertram to Yuuri. _Just to make sure Efram doesn't accidentally tell Dietrich any of the truth,_ thought Wolfram. Dietrich was too fragile yet to hear about quarter-trolls like his adored father and Brendan dying of sex, or his mother being mentally ill because her parents were close relatives – not nearly as close as Aldrich and Manfred. No, the truth wouldn't do for brilliant and fearful Dietrich. Aldrich and Manfred clasped his hand in thanks on his way out.

Cecilie looked inspired and thoughtful. Friedrich was nearly twice her age. If he could find a new career and fresh challenges befitting his age and wisdom, well then, maybe so could she.

oOo

Aldrich laid a hand high on the bole of a beautiful maple tree, and looked up. The day after the wedding, he and Wolfram rode out with Manfred and Yuuri, to this lovely mixed stand of trees, on the last hill on the road to the Institute.

"Friend of yours? Or… a relative?" asked Manfred softly.

"Son... and daughter. Most trees are _'both'_. I imagine _'both'_ was the norm for wood nymphs, male or female the exception."

Wolfram asked, "Is he… happy? To be a tree? Never awoken to be a person?" He gulped. That… he found the hardest of all. That he might plant a seed of his and Yuuri's, and it grow into a child was bizarre enough. That they might only grow to be trees, never to awaken as people… set something within him crying.

Aldrich understood Wolfram's anguish, but as a plant-lover, didn't share his animal-centric bias. "He's a happy tree, Wolfram. It's not like you regret your lost life as a daffodil."

Wolfram chuckled, surprised. "Point taken. Though… I _have_ suffered dragon envy…"

Aldrich grinned lopsidedly. "And I admire trees. This one… is a few years older than you, Manfred. What Tariel said, about the wood nymph in our bodies having its own agenda, that our minds know little about… really hit home. Wolfred and I were fooling around, denying to ourselves what we were doing between nephew and uncle… And a few days later I sneezed seeds out of my sinuses." He pulled out a handkerchief and unwrapped it. They were shaped like pumpkin seeds, of assorted mottled colors. Wolfram hesitantly unwrapped a similar packet. He shyly showed four seeds to Yuuri. Aldrich's were half again the size. But then, so was Aldrich.

"Does it hurt?" said Yuuri, running a finger alongside Wolfram's nose. "Sneezing them out?"

Wolfram shook his head. "Just a very hard sneeze. Kind of a relief, like any time your sinuses have been stuffed up."

"So does this maple tree… no, it has normal seeds," Manfred said, spotting the distinctive maple propellers.

"It lives a normal maple tree life," Aldrich agreed. "That maple was its sapling. This one's life maryoku is strong, but that one's just a healthy tree. The oak," he pointed, "was from the same group of seeds. I told Wolfred. But we agreed not to tell anyone else. I sort of told myself it wasn't real. Yet I kept the seeds in my pocket for a week, looking for a nice place to plant them. This hill was an eyesore, crowned with bracken. And I just thought… it could look so pretty. So I planted the seeds here. They grew, and their maryoku took over, and turned it into this beautiful spot. Wolfred disappeared for a few years into the Fens, and came back with you, Manfred. You look like Chichi's son, not mine. I was only sixty, and I… didn't want to know. Besides, the seeds grew trees, not children. So, I denied it ever happened. Even when… it kept happening. That willow… is one of ours, Manfred. I'm so sorry I lied to you, love, but… it was really myself I was lying to."

Manfred embraced and gentled him, and murmured, "I understand," in his ear.

Yuuri held Wolfram's seeds and looked at the trees. "So how do they turn into children? Ah, people-shaped children. Like Manfred."

"Most can't," said Wolfram, sadly. "Before Tariel corrected our maryoku, none could. It's our fire, not just the lovemaking, that creates the seeds. Even now, most are just tree seeds. Only a few have… possible babies inside."

"A seed is a lot like a womb, like an egg except dormant," explained Aldrich. "There's a tree embryo waiting inside each one, for the right conditions. If you simply plant it and walk away, it will only turn into a tree. But if one has… that extra spark… I can grow it, nurture it, feed it on parental love and maryoku until it reaches a certain size. Then, try to awaken a baby to emerge from it. Then… Garena could continue to go back and forth between being a person and being a tree. Manfred, and Chichi and Emeraude, couldn't. Once they were drawn into baby demon form, they stayed demons."

"Aldrich has the maryoku to nurture and draw out a baby," said Wolfram. "And Tariel and Garena. But I don't, and neither did Wolfred. We can't create babies without their help."

"Why only three?" said Manfred. "Why did Tariel stop at three? Or didn't he?"

"Tariel's a tree, not a person," answered Aldrich. "Our physical form is real. His is just a projection. He and grandfather Theophilus tried for half a century, and eventually managed to create only five seeds. Of those, he could summon forth three, but the other two…

"I brought Tariel out here. I'm sorry, Wolfram, but you said you'd never created seeds. I wanted to talk to Tariel alone about my… guilt. Over what I'd done. Tariel's other two weren't like this one," he stroked his hand up the maple's trunk. "Mine are true trees plus life maryoku. Those other two, Chichi's brothers, were true wood nymphs, struck dumb, forever silenced. Like all the rest. Tariel's grief was overwhelming. None of his children could bring back the wood nymph race. He gave Chichi and Emeraude to grandfather to raise, and refused to try anymore. If he didn't have Garena to care for, I don't know what he would have done."

"Like all the rest?" asked Yuuri. "What happened to the wood nymphs, Aldrich?"

"The same magic, the resonance Shinou used to kill the troll armies of the Enemy, struck the wood nymphs as well. They turned comatose, all except Tariel, who was shielded in hiding with Troll Mother. It happened that way with many of the dwindling races, many vanished altogether, some had more survivors. Troll Mother was pregnant, had a baby to raise, was determined to do whatever it took, to bring her people back. Tariel… was destroyed. He went insane for thousands of years, going from dumb tree to dumb tree all over the world, searching. His people hadn't _died_, they stood all around him, unreachable, unwakeable. Though by now, even those have died, as well as... our uncles. Chichi and Garena's brothers, the sleeping wood nymphs."

They stood silent for a time, in respect for the enormity of a grief like that. Eventually Yuuri asked, "Can you tell, which seeds have a chance of being people?"

"I can't," said Wolfram, and held out his seeds to Aldrich. "These are from midsummer. You said they might be… stronger."

"Yes, they are, and so are mine," said Aldrich, tenderly touching each one in turn. He touched a smaller, wizened seed, a less attractive thing mottled grey and pink. "_This_ one. This one could draw a Mazoku soul. Can you feel it?" He offered out his seeds again and pointed out two for comparison. There was no visible pattern to this. One of Aldrich's was a plump lime green thing, the other a slender dark brown with blue streaks.

Wolfram touched the three briefly, then turned and put his hand to his mouth and sobbed. Yuuri hastily pulled him into his arms and held him while he cried. "Until this… we didn't know, Yuuri… All the other parents were part wood nymph, we didn't know whether you and I could…" Yuuri held him tight, murmuring to him.

Manfred and Aldrich drew away to give them a little privacy. "How many of ours? Might be Mazoku?" Manfred asked.

"Only these two, ever, I think," replied Aldrich. He put the seeds away for the moment. "But I… really _like_ trees, Manfred. Would you mind? If I plant them all? They… transform the places I plant them. They're everywhere I've been by now. Is that… OK? With you?" In the end, Wolfram regained his composure before Aldrich, who had a lot more weight on his conscience.

When he could ask again, Yuuri asked, "So, it's only you two, of all the descendants of Tariel, who are _'both'_? Who have the… anatomy to create seeds?"

"Not quite," Manfred surprised them by answering. "The plant ovaries are in all of us. I _told_ you it was getting hard for me to pretend I didn't know," he said to Aldrich, stroking the small of his back. "That much, I could piece together myself. That strange thickening and fine tubes at the bottom of the sinuses, we all have. But we don't have the green fire Aldrich and Wolfram have, the life maryoku. And none of Emeraude's children carried the fire healing maryoku it can emerge in. The fire healing gift only passes from father to son. Is that right, Aldrich?"

He nodded. "Although… we don't know yet, about Dietrich and Efram and Bertram. It may emerge in them when they're older. Garena may have other offspring. And Chichi… I find it a little hard to believe he's had only two children in nearly 800 years. There are quite a few fire healers who aren't named von Bielenfeld, all descended from various whomever's illegitimate children. So, there may be others."

Aldrich took out the seeds again, his own and Wolfram's. "Would you like me to keep this one for you? While you think about it? The magic of midsummer was powerful. There might never be another like this. If you decide you want to, I could plant it in the spring. I won't have enough time to spend with them until the leaves fall, according to Tariel's dragon forecast. The others… you can plant whenever you want. They grow into magnificent trees, of many kinds."

"I'll keep it," said Wolfram. "Unless you think… would he be safer with you?"

Aldrich met his eye kindly. "I don't know. I would love him for you, I can tell you that. Keep him in a warm, dark, dry place, touch him every day, as my own. Can you feel his maryoku?"

"Yes, a little, I think," said Wolfram, scared.

"I can feel it," said Yuuri confidently, and took the seed. "If he weakens in any way, we can bring him back to Aldrich for safe-keeping. In the meantime, let's try bathing him in our own love, Wolfram." He hugged a grateful Wolfram, who stayed in his embrace and lay his head on Yuuri's shoulder, reassured. "I'd never thought to be able to have a child with Wolfram. Thank you, Aldrich, for the chance."

Aldrich nodded. "My pleasure. Literally. The hard part would be tearing myself away from my garden enough to run my domain. I might sleep in the tool shed… And it… takes very little difference in effort between nurturing one seed… and three?"

"Absolutely," said Manfred. _"However._ Keeping _Cecilie_ out of your garden might prove a challenge. Perhaps she could take the night shift in the shed. She might not have green fire in her wind maryoku, Aldrich, but she's a demon for plants and kids, every bit as much as you."

Aldrich laughed. "Well, she's welcome to _visit_. But my garden is my _sanctuary_, she can't move in."

Wolfram laughed. "We'll see about that."

"You said _'he'_," said Yuuri, struck by a thought. "Is it? A little boy?"

"I can't tell," said Aldrich. "Can you, Manfred?"

Manfred shook his head. "Even on a demon baby, I simply observe the sex organs after they've formed inside the mother. If I understand the process, there won'tbe any to observe until the child is materialized out of the sapling. Is that right, Aldrich?" Aldrich nodded. "How long does that take, anyway?"

"Before the leaves fall," said Aldrich. "Next autumn."

Before they left, the two couples split off and planted the other seeds – the tree seeds – amidst the nurturing life maryoku of their relatives on the hill. Then Aldrich and Manfred rode down into town, to honeymoon another night at Manfred's cottage at the Institute. They would return the next day for a reception banquet at the Castle, and resume their work at the conference. A real honeymoon could wait until after the peace was won and the dragons departed.

Yuuri and Wolfram stayed among the trees until the stars came out. Aldrich and Manfred would visit with these trees often, on the road to the Institute and beyond that, the Aldrich von Bielenfeld plantation, which Dietrich stood to inherit someday. But Yuuri and Wolfram wouldn't often pass this way. They found it hard to let go, touching the trees, talking. At last, under the stars, they rode back to Castletown, eager to hug their other children, and share their hopes and dreams with them.

- oOo -

The End.

- oOo -

_Please review? Pretty please?_


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